Page 40 of Locked in Wonderland

A shout rang out behind me.

I whipped around.

More shouts followed, accompanied by the thunder of multiple pairs of footsteps. A man burst around the bend at full tilt. He glanced over his shoulder without slowing, terror written all over his face.

What was he running from?

I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Five men rounded the corner after him. Two carried baseball bats, one a tire iron, and the remaining two wickedly long knives.

“Hey, get your pussy ass back here,” one of them shouted.

“Yeah,” another called. Something red splattered his chest; logic dictated it must be blood. “I’ve got a bat that wants to fuck it.”

The remark prompted hoots of laughter from the others. It spurred him on to get even more graphic. “You’ll love it. Gonna bury it so deep in your guts, it’ll come out of your mouth.”

So far, they hadn’t noticed me, their attention fixed entirely on their prey. They’d have to pass me, though. And when they did, there was no way they wouldn’t notice me.

And then what?

Would their eyes slide right over me? Or would they decide I looked like an easier target? Had I been dressed normally, there might have been a chance of the first option. But dressed like a fuckboy, I had no faith whatsoever that they wouldn’t switch targets.

And I had no more desire to get intimate with a baseball bat than the man currently running away from one.

I took a step back.

Mistake.

The movement was enough to catch the attention of the nearest man—the one carrying the bat.

His gaze locked onto me.

His expression reminded me of a hawk spotting a mouse. A door handle pressed into my back. Blind panic had me reaching for it. It twisted beneath my grip, and the door swung inward. I stumbled across the threshold and slammed it shut behind me.

Darkness swallowed me.

I stood frozen, ready to throw my full weight against the door if they tried to force their way inside.

My heart hammered against my ribs as the seconds crawled past.

I wanted to swallow, but I wasn’t sure I remembered how.

Then footsteps. Coming closer.

My fingers tightened around the handle.

Silence.

A silence so long and drawn out that it made me want to scream.

Then the footsteps retreated.

I released my breath in a rush and offered a silent prayer of thanks to whatever deity had convinced them to leave.

“They won’t come in here,” a gruff voice said from behind me.

Jesus Christ! Just when I thought I wasn’t going to have a heart attack, someone had to prove me wrong.