Page 15

"Fuck you!" she screeches as she pulls down the chain, slamming it down hard onto Derek's stomach. He gasps loudly, groaning in pain. Fuck, she just took the wind right out of him. I watch as he writhes on the floor. It's time to step in now, before she gets herself killed.

"You're a wild one, I see," I say, my voice confident and slightly amused; I can't help the smirk plastered across my face.

She turns to me, her face wild. "Come near me, and you'll get it, too." She holds the chain out, it shaking in her hand. God, it's almost funny how she thinks a few metal links will scare me.

I take a step closer, holding my hands out. "That's not a very nice way to greet someone." I wait for her to make the next move, my gun tucked into my jacket pocket. I don't want to kill her; fuck, Vincent will lose his shit if he doesn't get all four of his girls.

"Yeah, well, it's not very nice to take someone against their will, either, but is it going to stop you?"

Touché. She's got me there.

Her hands shake against the metal chain as Derek continues to writhe against the floor. His groaning and heavy breathing fill the air, alongside his stench. I step over him, not caring that he's clutching his stomach in pain. He could rot down there for all I care. My eyes never leave her, every part of my gaze studies her face.

"Drop the chain."

I don't hide the coldness in my tone, despite the flicker of a smile on my lips.

"Let me leave." She flings the chain forward, attempting to scare me away.

The laugh I'd been swallowing spills out before I can stop it. Her small body shaking, hands gripping against the chain as she shoves it towards me in another attempt to warn me off. It probably would have worked had it been Jarrod collecting her, but me? Nah. I've been beaten with these things so many times that they don't scare me—not anymore.

I admire her, though. Her attempt to survive, to escape. The other girls just walked straight into their captivity. Not her, though. Her eyes wild as she glares at me, lips twitching.

"Don't you dare laugh at me!" She strikes forward again with the chain. I dodge it and step back as it almost connects. Fuck, I don't know if she's brave or psychotic now, but either way, she's getting fucking annoying. I didn't sign up for this; it isn't my job. I kill people, not babysit them.

"We have two options here," I say, stepping forward, my hand sliding into my pocket and gripping around the cold metal of the gun.

"Either you drop the chain, and I walk you out of here nicely," my hand falls to my side, her eyes glancing down at the gun against my palm, "or option number two."

She swallows. "Option number two?"

I aim the gun towards her, shooting the ground beside her, the noise ricocheting throughout the warehouse. She flinches, eyes wide with fear, the metal chain trembling and bouncing against the ground as she shakes with fear.

"Option number two is I shoot you in the face and tell Vincent that you deserved it."

There's silence for a moment, the low rumbling from the gunshot still echoing. I watch as she straightens, wafting a loose strand of hair from her face. Her eyes are sharp as she studies my face, inspecting every inch of me, forcing me to look at the floor, the walls—anything but her.

No matter what I do, I still feel the burn of her stare.

"I'll take option two," she announces, slicing the heavy silence.

Wait, what?

My eyebrows furrow into a frown as I move towards her. My palms sweat against the gun in my hand, which never happens. Something curdles in my stomach as she watches me.

It's hot. It's hot in here, and that's why you're sweating.

I tilt my head and dare another look at her, but her expression doesn't change.

"You'd rather die?" I ask, my voice a little higher now.

She doesn't reply. She just stares.

I've decided—she's not brave; she really is psychotic.

She sucks in a breath as her body relaxes, every inch of me on fire as she looks at me, sending something through me I can't even describe.

The way she stares straight through me, like she's seeing every ounce of my darkness, examining every single part of me I hate. She doesn't look away, and I can't, either. It's magnetic. She's magnetic.