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He jerked back and screamed. Loudly.
More than her bite seemed to warrant.
Then he was rolling off her, and he seemed to be clutching at his chest. His screams were cut off, as if someone had pinched his lungs closed at the top.
“Help,” he gasped.
The other guys weren’t moving, but she could feel their confusion. Two still had her hands pinned, but others were standing.
“Dude,” said one. Seth. He shifted from foot to foot. “Dude, you okay?”
Drew was writhing on the ground, hands clutched to his chest or his throat. She couldn’t quite tell. It sounded like he said, “Someone help me,” but his words were barely intelligible.
“He’s having a heart attack,” she said.
She had no idea whether that was true. She couldn’t even make herself care if he died.
But she needed to get free.
It worked. They let her go to help their friend. She dug her toes into the wet ground and made to run.
Seth caught her arm and spun her around. “How do we know this isn’t a trick?”
What an idiot. A trick? That Drew was in on?
She didn’t ask him. She just used that spinning momentum to drive her elbow into his face.
Something cracked. She felt wetness on her arm. And he was yelling, just as loud as Drew.
Then he was on the ground, yelling, clutching his chest.
What the hell was going on? The rain started to pour, hard and driving and soaking her dress.
And freezing. Her teeth started to chatter.
“What the f**k did you do to them?” one of the guys was screaming at her. He grabbed her before she could see him coming, trapping her arms. “What did you—”
A fist came out of nowhere and punched him in the face. Her arms were free. She couldn’t make out her savior, but two guys were grappling off to her left. Drew and Seth were still writhing on the ground.
The rain turned to sleet—unheard of in September. Each drop stung, a wallop of power against her skin.
Chris. Chris had come after her. She almost started to sob.
But this wasn’t over yet. She wasn’t close to safe. They were still outnumbered; Chris just had the element of surprise working for him.
She could help with that. “Get out of here!” she yelled. “I’m calling the cops! Get the hell out of here!”
Someone threw a punch, and she saw a shadow fall. She flinched, worried for Chris.
Then she heard his voice, low and lethal. “Get out of here before I kill you.”
They did. Two ran off through the grass. Three dragged the other two, swearing while they went.
And then she was alone with Chris. For an instant, all she could hear was the freezing rain and the rush of her shaking breath.
“Becca.” Chris moved closer, but he stopped a few feet in front of her. She heard the whisper of fabric as he shrugged out of his jacket. “Becca. Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, then realized he probably couldn’t see it. “N-no.”
