Page 244 of Safe Word

The last step never met my foot—

Something snapped tight around my throat, jerking me backwards mid-air. My body slammed into the wall, stars exploding behind my eyes as the rope bit into my windpipe.

I clawed at it, gasping, but as a fist cracked across my jaw, it spun me sideways.

My vision swam. Instinct took over – I swung blindly, the Bowie stealing that little light that was coming from the stairwell. But it caught only air. I swiped it again, cutting the rope until my feet touched ground and I drew in a desperate breath.

A shadow moved in front of me. Somewhere beyond us came the faint slap… slap and the low murmur of a distant, distorted voice.

My opponent lunged.

We traded blows in the dark, each of his strikes met my counter too cleanly to be coincidence.

Whoever he was, he moved like someone trained – not a street thug, but military, or an athlete. Pain lanced through my ribs as he drove an elbow in, but I twisted, slashing low with the knife – and met resistance. The blade caught flesh. A hiss followed.

He stumbled back but suddenly pivoted, kicking me in the chest – right where my wounds were still healing from the fight in Obsidian.

A soft roar left me on a breath as I almost fell to my knees, pain searing through my body. In the split-second that I surged forward to finish the arsehole—

—he was gone.

Swallowed by the dark like he’d never been there at all.

My lungs were on fire as I pivoted, feet slipping over dust-slick concrete, my jaw throbbing, my vision adjusting just enough to make out the blur of shadows.

That wasn’t a kick for the sake of kicking. I hurt him. He needed to slow me down. So he aimed—

Shit!

He knew I was wounded there. The only people who knew that were Paula and Gianna—

And the fucker in the gold mask I fought in Obsidian.

Jesus Christ, how long had she been stalked?

My ribs protested with every move, but then—

A scream.

It ricocheted off the walls, lodged straight in my chest and splintered.

‘Paula?’ Her name cracked out of me, splintering through my lungs, faster than thought, faster than fear.

FORTY-THREE

The belt strikes stopped. The slaps. The kicks.

For a moment, the world went deaf except for the sound of his ragged breath, like an animal deciding whether to tear into flesh or bone next.

The air burned in my throat.

‘Those like you never learn,’ Travis rumbled.

He stepped away, the scrape of his boots against concrete louder than the rush of blood in my ears. I could smell the stench of sweat and iron on him. His fingers went to the buttons of his jeans – and the world folded in on itself.

Cool night air clawed into my throat – and stuck there.

No.