Page 44 of Nightfire

“We’ll leave soon,” the other man said. He was slightly shorter, stockier, with the same dead light blue eyes. He, too, had an accent. “Just as soon as we clear a few things up. We have something to say to you and you better listen.”

They moved closer, right into her space. Chloe backed up and they followed. Classic aggressive behavior.

It was then that Chloe understood she was in trouble. Her body had been right all along.

This was the administrative wing of the building and it was after hours. No one was around. If they knew the setup here at the shelter, they were banking on the fact that she was isolated.

“We need for you to listen to us,” Tall Guy said. His face was blank and terrifying in its lack of emotion. Chloe could smell them—a nauseating mix of unwashed male and a heavy cologne. They looked wrong, they acted wrong, they smelled wrong.

Chloe sidestepped and Tall Guy grabbed her upper arm in a strong, unbreakable grip, pulling her toward him.

She was instantly paralyzed, seized by a fear so great she couldn’t breathe. Her oldest nightmare now made flesh.

There was a metallic click and suddenly a sharp blade was brandished under her nose, the wickedly sharp point right under her left eye. It was long, a lusterless black, razor sharp and terrifying.

“We need for you to pay attention to what we’re going to say. Are you paying attention?”

Terror gripped her lungs. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t breathe. Tall Guy shook her, put his face right next to hers, so close she could see the broken blood vessels in his eyes, so close she could see glints of gold where his shaver had missed sections of beard. Above all, so close she could smell the terrifying cold, steely scent of violence.

His voice lowered, became even more frightening. “I said—are you paying attention?” His shake hurt, his grip around her arm cutting off circulation.

She couldn’t speak. Her throat was paralyzed. She nodded.

The other man had circled around to her other side. His right hand snaked out and, shockingly, cupped her breast. “Pretty,” he said, pinching her hard. He looked at his partner, a quick reptilian glance. “Maybe she needs help in staying awake while you talk to her, eh?”

The tall man’s painful grip tightened even more as he lifted her up. She stood on tiptoe to ease the pain. She’d broken that arm twice. The shorter man’s big hand left her breast, but before she could even breathe a sigh of relief, with his forearm he cleared the desk top of the clothes she’d been folding and the tall man threw her down onto the desktop, driving all the air out of her lungs.

They spoke to each other in a language she didn’t understand, short sharp words. Finally, the taller man gave a gesture of irritation—okay have it your way—and stood to one side.

The shorter man unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, hands working fast. A huge, dark red erect penis jutted out from the dark blond hair of his groin.

Panic sang in Chloe’s head as she gasped for breath, legs uselessly kicking at him.

“Pretty,” he grinned, sliding big hands up under her dress, stepping between her legs. Oh God, this was happening so fast! Every move she made was countered by one man or the other. They were so strong, there was nothing she could do. She tried to bring her knee up to kick the man between her legs and he laughed, exchanging a narrow-eyed glance of amusement at his partner.

She couldn’t breathe yet. Mewling sounds came out of her throat, the strangled sounds of panic and pain.

They were enjoying this. Loving it. Loving her attempts to defend herself, knowing she could never, ever win.

A flush of rage flashed through her, like a nuclear blast, clearing her lungs. She drew in a full breath that broke the bonds of her panic and screamed as loud as she could, the sound echoing in the room.

She’d startled them. The shorter man between her legs loosened his grip on her thighs and she landed a foot straight in his crotch, reveling in the feel of his testicles crunching beneath her shoe. He doubled over in pain and she screamed again, loud and constant.

She wasn’t submitting without a fight.

The tall man shouted something, raised his fist, then turned his head with a frown.

Wood shattered and something large, moving fast, tackled the man assaulting her. They disappeared from view, dropping to the floor with a heavy shudder.

Terrible animal sounds came from the floor as the two men grappled, thudding against the desk, shaking her. Chloe scrambled upright, she had to move, she had to get to⁠—

Suddenly a massive blow struck her and she flew across the room, bouncing off a pillar and landing painfully on the floor. A man, face bloodied, stood with a terrible roar and jumped the tall man. She had an electric moment of awareness—Mike!—and lost consciousness.

Fuck this, Mike thought, hand hovering over the wood-panel door at the shelter where Chloe volunteered.

Men really weren’t supposed to be here. It was a law of the shelter and he understood it, completely. Everyone in this building, including Chloe, especially Chloe, had suffered at the hands of a violent man. For the women in this building, men were the enemy. A different race from them, sworn to destroy them.

Many of the women would never recover their self-confidence after what had been done to them. Would never breathe easy in the same room with a man. Would never have a relationship with a man again.