Page 126 of Until I Claim You


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The gun presses up against my side and a hand wraps in my hair. “Don’t fucking speak.” The man throws me back into my chair.

I remain frozen, still bracing from the fall, trying to think of all the ways I could have stopped this.

“It’s a small fortune!” The woman giggles, swinging her bag full of cash over her shoulder and skipping over to the man.

I eye them while they talk in low voices. It’s so quiet here their words carry over.

The woman looks my way. “We’re not supposed to hurt her.”

“She’s going to call the cops right away if we leave her.”

Her.Me. God, what do I do?

Edwin will be mad. God, he’ll go ballistic if I die here.

If he were here, he’d save me. He’d find a way to stop this and save me.

He always protects me.

Edwin.

He told me he loves me twice now. And…

I love him. I love him so much, but he doesn’t know that. Because I’m so stupid, and I never told him. Now I might die here.

But if I do, I’ll never get to tell him.

And it will be all my fault.

I can’t die. I have to live.

At least long enough to tell him I love him too.

I need to get out of here.

They seem distracted. And I’m hopped up on adrenaline and a little wine.

I make a break for the button under my desk.

The man fires the gun, and though the shot misses me, it’s a warning I know I have to heed.

“Bitch.”

The woman comes around the back of my chair and grabs me by the head, pulling it against the headrest of my chair.

“If you do something like that again…” the man breathes. “You’re dead.”

I don’t move a muscle. I don’t try to fight them when they tie my hands to the arm restsor bind my ankles together or put duct tape over my mouth. In fact, it’s comforting.

They wouldn’t need to do all of this if they were planning on just killing me.

“Come on.” The woman checks the watch on her wrist. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

She darts out of the room.

The man starts to follow, but then he turns back to look at me. A sneer on his lips beneath the balaclava.

I press my back into the chair, wishing I could get away, but I can’t.

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