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The fist in my hair yanks my head back and to the side, the odd angle doing nothing to help the pain lancing through my head. “Bitch, behave,” the angry voice grumbles in my ear.
Warm liquid trickles down the side of my face. Dizziness immediately assaults me as the world violently tilts, and the ground in the middle of the alley rises up to meet me. I land hard on my back, the unforgiving asphalt breaking my fall. Something sharp slices through the thin material of my top, digging into the flesh between my shoulder blades. Bits of gravel and glass score the exposed skin of my lower back where my shirt has lifted.
A red-haired man with eyes as blue as summer day hovers over me, working the buttons of my jeans free in an attempt to pull them down. I scream at my legs to move, to kick, to do something—anything—but nothing happens. The disconnect between my brain and the rest of my body has tears burning behind my eyes as fire burns in my veins.
He lifts my hips, maneuvering my jeans down over the protruding bones. The sharp object at my back digs its way in further, forcing a grunt from me that sends sparks flashing across my vision, followed by needles digging into my brain. He pulls my pants down my legs, causing my body to grind against the road. Skin breaks along my back, and I want to scream. My head swims with shocks of pain, and black spots flicker at the edges of my vision.
Something skims along my inner thigh, drawing my attention. From the edge of my vision, red hair between my legs screams warning, danger, run at me like a neon sign, and gods, do I want to obey. His breathing increases as he inhales at the apex of my thighs. Pulling my thong aside, he runs his tongue up through the slit. With a moan, he gets to his knees and slides my thong down. Reaching into his pants, he pulls his cock free.
My gaze locks on the fist he holds around his cock, dread and anger fill my mind. He pumps his cock while sliding a finger through my folds. Flashes of Alastair on top of me play across my mind. My heart thunders in my ears, and my body burns with a need to flee.
My leg twitches and hope fills me. A hope that he quickly squashes. He grabs hold of me, pulling my body closer and pinning me to the ground. Bits of glass and rock cut into my bare thighs and ass as he tugs me across the ground.
My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out, a scream clogged behind the lump forming in my throat. Tears stream from my eyes, soaking into the hair at my temples. I beg my wolf to come forward, to save me, to save us. She’s curled up, hiding in the furthest recesses of my soul. Images of Alastair play in my mind again, and I know all she sees is him attempting to force her into a mate bond.
Gods, not again, please not again, I beg the heavens as my head starts to clear. My hands fist at my side, my arm jerks slightly, and once again, hope blooms in my chest. I throw a weak as fuck punch at the man’s face, neck, shoulders—anywhere I can reach him, but he just laughs and pins my arms to the ground, slamming my right elbow into something hard and unforgiving.
Fuck, that fucking hurt.
He presses his pelvis down onto mine, and I want to vomit. His cock rubs between my legs, brushing over my clit, and I gag on the bile raising up in me. He twists my arms out to the side and down under my lower back, pressing my chest up. I finally manage a scream as my elbow is wrenched in the process.
Gods, please don’t let this happen. He fists both of my wrists in his hand as he pulls my shirt to the side, tearing it open with his other hand. He pulls at the cups of my bra, freeing my breasts. Biting down on my left nipple, he breaks skin, leaving behind teeth marks and dots of red pooling from the open wounds.
The tears flow faster from my eyes as I scream again and struggle against his hold.
“Shut up,” he growls, landing a punch to my right cheek and eye. I cry out in pain and scream louder. He grabs a fist full of my torn shirt and shoves it into my mouth, cutting my bottom lip on my tooth.
Leaning over me, he licks from my collarbone to my ear. “You taste like honey, darlin’,” he slurs. “Fuck, I can’t wait anymore to pound your sweet little pussy. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if you keep screaming. Play nice, and I’ll be gentle.” I squeeze my eyes shut as he lifts his hips and lines himself up, knowing what’s about to come.
A long second passes, but nothing happens. The weight pressing down on me is gone. The hands pinning me in place … gone. The rancid smell of bile, alcohol, and body odor threatening to suffocate me … all gone. Slowly, I open my eyes, as much as the bruising and swelling will allow, and see the light of the alley. The dumpster is to my right, and piles of trash to my left, but no red-headed man. He’s gone.
My breathing hitches as I try to force air past the new lump forming in my throat. I’m freezing, yet I’m coated in a sheen of sweat as my body trembles with fear, and the adrenaline that was dumped into my veins, leaving my system useless. My mind goes blank, and I pull at my ruined shirt, trying to close it over my exposed breasts, but it’s torn all to hell. My pants are around my ankles. Grabbing at them, I pull them higher up my raw, bare legs, unable to get them over my hips as I’m still sitting in the alley. Trying and failing to stand on trembling legs, I burst into sobs as the trembling turns into full body convulsing. Flashes of Alastair continuing to assault my mind.
Footsteps approach from further down the alley, and trepidation transforms into a full-blown panic attack. I manage to push myself across the alley, cutting my legs and ass more. Glass digs into my palms, and blood trickles from the multitude of lacerations that now litter my limbs and back. Once my back hits the brick wall between the dumpster and a pillar, I stop trying to drive my body further away from the encroaching dark figure. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them, hiding as much of my body from view as possible. I bury my face in my knees and sob.
The footsteps stop in front me. A pair of black motorcycle boots swim in my tearstained vision, but they aren’t Cree-sized, maybe a size or two smaller. Then a pair of knees, clad in a faded denim, come into view as he lowers himself to the ground in front of me. My eyes travel up to a plain white T-shirt speckled with red blotches that I swear weren’t there earlier. The faint outlines of tattoos visible under the thin material wind up his chest and into full tattoo sleeves running down each arm and up his neck. Following the lines of tattoos leads my eyes to full lips and a five o’clock shadow, to a nose that appears to have been recently broken with the purple bruise and slight swelling. Brown eyes flecked with gold meet mine, and a flash of understanding runs through them. He knows pain and loss; the pieces of his shattered soul speak to mine. And an invisible tether snaps into place between us, a band of trust and certainty, and something much stronger.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, his voice low and soothing. Something about that voice, his presence, the way he keeps his distance, his hands visible, makes me believe him.
The world tilts—or maybe it’s just me—but as the dumpster draws closer, a wave of feeling safe washes through me from my wolf, and the crack in my walls splinter until it shatters. In a move too quick to catch, I’m wrapped in strong arms and being lifted gently to sit across his lap. Every ounce of remaining strength to fight his hold leeches from my body as that tether pulls tighter. The physical pain radiating through my body as he adjusts me in his arms is nothing compared to the turmoil flooding my mind. A soul-shattering, gut-wrenching sob punches free of my chest, and I break.
I break from the loss of my parents, Jimmy, and my sister. From the betrayal of Alastair, and Matt, and now this newest attack. All the pain and heartbreak that’s been building up over the years, hidden behind a wall of carefully constructed hardened steel, comes tumbling free in this moment. A moment cradled in the arms of a perfect stranger.
Chapter 9
ENZO
I stuff the rage inside of me down into the box at the back of my mind. She’s safe now, I’ve got her. No one is going to fucking touch her again. Riley trembles as she sobs in my arms, and all I can do is hold on.
The rest of the guys exit the building, and I nod my head at Cree, tilting it towards the dead asshole at the other end of the alley. Axel runs back inside the bar, appearing a minute later with a blanket in tow. He tries to drape it around her slender shoulders, but the instant it touches her, fight-or-flight instincts kick into high gear, and she fights my hold.
With gentle strokes on the back of her head and quiet murmurs in her ear, I sooth the frantic animal inside her. “Shh, it’s all right, I’ve still got you. It’s only Axel with a blanket to cover you. You’re safe, Riley, I promise no one is going to hurt you.” My hand comes away covered in sticky, crimson liquid—blood—her blood.Which only pours more fuel on the rage inside me. Breathing deep, I rein in my anger so I don’t scare her more.
Tiny fists clutch at my shirt, and I tighten my arms around Riley’s shaking body. Her breathing is shallow between her racking sobs, causing me to worry she’s not getting enough oxygen. I continue the quiet, soothing murmurs while carefully stroking from her head down to her spine.
Tiny bits of gravel and glass embedded in her back dig into my arm. My teeth grind together with the rage from my wolf. He wants to bring that fucking asshole back to life just to tear him apart again.
Time slows as the guys deal with the body, and I sit holding Riley while she breaks in my arms. Every movement, no matter how minute, causes her panic to ratchet. So, I stay, just holding her and offering every comfort I can, waiting for her to either pass out or come back to us. Her sobbing slows into a broken cry, and her breathing evens out. Soon enough, with iron fists twisted in my shirt, and her tiny body curled into a tight ball, she falls into a restless sleep.
