Page 194 of Always: A Legacy Novel

Catherine couldn’t say anything because the guy was squeezing her jaw hard enough to loosen her teeth, and she was terrified.

“Shit, Gerry, you found her?” called another voice.

Catherine’s heart stopped.

“About to get my fuckin’ due, too.”

With those words, Catherine felt a hand snaking up under her dress, and she finally came back to life all at once. She pushed off the wall because this time her body could fight back, and drove her fists into the guy’s body. One into his face, the other, his groin.

He doubled over, and Catherine bolted to the side.

His friend was there waiting for her.

Laughter mocked her.

All over again, she was shoved into the wall while hands and hot breath and taunting words invaded. Nothing she did could stop it. No matter how hard she fought, nothing. Her mouth was covered with her first shout.

She was spun around, her dress was ripped, and then she caught sight of the darkest salvation coming her way.

Cross came out of nowhere.

Like thin air parted and there he was.

She didn’t even have the time to be grateful for his quick action, before he was ripping the two men away from her, and fists started raining down.

Catherine just wanted to get the hell away. She wanted to fix her dress, to stop crying, to breathe and speak, for her throat to not taste like vomit, for her muscles not to hurt … she didn’t want to remember.

Sickening cracks of fists hitting flesh and bone made her cover her ears, but she saw the flash of silver … it came out of nowhere, too.

The grunt that came out of Cross when the knife slammed into his lower abdomen, made Catherine sick to her stomach. The silver blade came out red.

“Fuck, Gerry … go,” the first guy barked.

They were out of the alleyway without a look back.

Cross was already down to the pavement, on his knees. Ropes of red slipped through his fingers as he pressed his hand to the bleeding wound.

Pressure, pressure, pressure, Catherine thought. He needed more pressure on it.

She couldn’t even speak.

“It’s okay, babe,” she heard him say. “It’s okay.”

It was not okay.

It was not.

Every movement Cross made was painful.

“You all right, there, principe?” Wolf asked.

Cross grunted from his hospital bed, trying to reset himself into a more comfortable position. “It’s one fucking stab wound, for Christ’s sake. Why does it feel like my insides are ripping apart?”

“Location, location, location,” Zeke said from beside his father.

Wolf jerked his thumb at his son. “Makes a good point.”

“And they had to open the wound by an inch on either side to repair damage, son,” Calisto added as he walked into the room, “so it’s a bit more than just the initial slice.”