Page 95 of Cavaliere

“Saw what? I honestly have no idea who you are or what you’re even talking about.” The next time I see someone basically dying on the side of the road, I am not stopping because fuck this shit. I didn’t ask for any of this. And if today is the day I die, then so be it, but it will not be in the back office of DD’s.

I fucking refuse.

“It all started with you fucking seeing me!” he screams, chunks of spit flying out of his mouth and hitting me in the face. It takes everything in me to stop thinking about all of the nasty things that are probably floating around in his saliva. Just the mere thought of it makes me want to throw up on the spot. “And then you just had to help him. You just had to stop and stick your nose into something that you have no business even being in. You stupid fucking girl.” He rants, sounding more crazy as he goes on.

A glint on the side of the desk closest to me catches my eye. The silver color gives me hope that it’s something sharp.

“Let’s fucking go.” He roughly grabs my upper arm, squeezing until the skin under his fingers turns white from the loss of blood underneath it. I can already feel the bruise starting to form.

I try to yank my arm out of his grasp, but I fail. Instead, he grows more angry. He pushes me, making me stagger, not prepared for the sudden jarring motion, and I fall toward the desk. Just as I put my free arm out to catch my fall, he shoves me again, only this time it’s harder. Instead of my arm breaking my fall, I land face first on the wood. My head bounces back on impact, but he’s right there, slamming it back down and making me cry out.

I can feel tears start to pool in the corner of my eyes. They’re not from being hurt though. No. They’re from the fact that I’m giving him the satisfaction of letting him know that he’s hurting me. The last thing I want is for this piece of shit to think he has had any sort of effect on me.

I’m seeing stars as I try to regain focus of the spinning room. The tears are only making it harder.

“Stop making me hurt you. I was going to make your death as pretty as you,” he says in a sickening soft tone. His free hand starts to stroke my hair as I feel the vomit work its way up my throat. “I had it all planned out. You were going to be lying down in bed. I was going to dress you in a white gown. You would look like an angel.” He pauses to lean down and sniff my hair.

Fucking gross.

I start to fold into myself on reflex. My shoulders are almost touching my ears, and I arch away from him.

“Keep doing that.” He takes another deep inhale. “I love it when you squirm. I want you so badly.”

Want you?

Want you?

“Just give it a little suck,” he says, making my body lock up tight. His hand shoots out in front of my face, and before I can register what’s happening next, he shoves two of his dirty, slimy fucking fingers into my mouth, making me gag. The vomit rushes around his fingers, the chunks oozing in between them as I bite down hard. He rips them out of my mouth with a scream, vomit dripping from his fingertips.

Using this small distraction to my advantage, my hand darts out, grabbing the shiny silver object I saw minutes before. I thank every single god and goddess that comes to mind when I realize it’s a letter opener.

Without hesitating, I tightly grip the slim handle before throwing my arm back as hard as I can, praying I make contact with anything on his body.

He lets out a blood-curdling scream, much like the one he let out the first time I stabbed him. The memories that come flooding back don’t paralyze me. They fuel my rage. Fuel my need to finish what he started. I refuse to be a victim in this made-up game he turned into my life.

I look back behind me and see the letter opening sticking out of his thigh. Blood is already starting to drip down his leg and onto the floor.

“You fucking bitch!” he roars, yanking the letter opener out of his thigh and throwing it on the desk. “You’re going to fucking pay for that.”

That’s the last thing I hear before everything fades to black.

Chapter

Fifty-Three

WREN

My mind wakes up before my body does. That feeling you get when you’re in that land of being in between sleep and awake is flowing through me, making me almost dizzy. You feel like you’re floating along as your body catches up to your brain, and you can actually open your eyes.

Blinking the dizziness away, my eyes slowly open.

I’m met with darkness.

My head is pounding in my ears, and the pain is almost unbearable. I hiss on a wince as I try to move my arm. The same arm he roughly grabbed. It’s already sore to move, so I know there has to be a massive bruise.

It takes me another few moments to realize that I’m in a moving car.

In the trunk of a moving car to be exact.