Page 107 of Safe Place

“I’m so fucking tired of you playing hard to get!” His voice explodes. “I know you left the door unlocked for me.”

Then his hand follows. The back of it cracks across my face so hard my head whips to the side. For a second, I can’t even process what just happened. Heat radiates through my cheek. My ears ring. My knees nearly give out.

“Your mom was the same,” he snarls. “Didn’t know what she wanted either. Just one fuck, and she can’t get enough of me now—waited years for me to get out. Pathetic bitch.”

He steps closer, eyes dragging over me like I’m something he already owns. “She was hot back then. Still is, sometimes, when she shuts up. But she’s getting old now.” His lip curls. “Thank God you got her looks. Can’t see much through those clothes, though. Let me fix that.”

He lunges. Fist in my hair. He yanks me down so fast the world tilts. I crash to the floor, pain jolting through my spine. I kick, shove, twist—panicked, scrambling. He grabs at my coat, and starts tugging it off. I can’t think. Can’t breathe.

For one reckless, stupid second, I expect the door to burst open. I expect Micah to come barreling in like he always does. My body waits for him before my mind can catch up. I’m so used to him being there to save me. But he’s taking an exam right now. I know that. I should have listened. I should have waited for him.

I still glance at the door, heart lurching, almost certain I’ll see him there. He’s always there for me. But I see something else. An umbrella. Not much, but the tip is metal. It’s pointed. It’s enough. So I grab it.

Mark lunges again, and I swing. The tip jabs into his ribs with a sick crack.

“Fuck!” He grunts and stumbles. “You bitch!” he slurs.

I don’t stop. I get up as fast as I can and jab the umbrella into his gut, then swing it up into his face like a bat. The impact shakes my arms. I swing again. Harder. His head snaps back. He stumbles into the table, knocking over a chair with a crash.

He’s drunk. Slow. And I’m not waiting to see what happens next.

I drop the umbrella and run toward the door. I fling it open and bolt, heart racing so hard I can hear it in my ears. I’m halfway down the hall before I realize—my bag. My phone. My keys. Car keys.

Gone.

I must’ve dropped them when he grabbed me—maybe by the door, maybe when I hit the floor. I don’t even know. But I can’t go back.

I shove the entrance open and burst out into the cold. And I run as fast as I can.

My body moves on instinct—pure, desperate survival. I don’t feel the pain in my side or the sharp ache in my cheek. I don’t feel anything except breathless terror propelling me forward.

The wind tears at my face. My shoes pound the pavement. I dodge pedestrians, traffic lights, everything in my way. My lungs burn. My vision blurs. But I don’t stop.

I don't stop until The Haven comes into view. I have no sense of how long I've been running—five minutes or thirty. Probably the latter, given the distance. My lungs are telling me thirty.

My legs are shaking, my coat half open, one sleeve falling off my shoulder. I nearly trip over the curb but catch myself on the railing.

Davis is just stepping out of the booth when he sees me.

“Miss Lennox?” His voice rises with alarm. “Are you—what happened?”

“I—I don’t have my phone,” I stammer. “Or the card. Please. I need to go up.”

He doesn’t hesitate. With one glance at my face, he swipes his card and holds the elevator open.

“Go,” he says.

I get inside and press the button, hands still trembling. My reflection stares back at me from the mirrored walls—pale, hair a mess, eyes red. There’s a red welt blooming across my cheek. I don’t even remember how hard he hit me.

The elevator dings, and the doors slide open.

MICAH

I sprint back to the elevator and pray to God I’m not too late.

But it dings before I even press the button.

The doors slide open.