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My damn brothers had told me to put it in a more rugged case. Did I do that? No, no I didn’t. I put it in a super cute one I’d found that had little corgis all over it.
Which meant there was a ninety-eight percent probability that I had at least a cracked—if not a completely shattered—screen.
And also no way to get in touch with Nyx.
Yeah.
That was what my mind was on.
Not whatever the hell it was that knocked my phone out of my hand in the first place.
That was something I would regret almost instantly, though.
Because one moment I was standing there worried about a stupid, replaceable phone.
The next, I was being shoved down that space between the buildings, colliding face-first with the brick wall.
I had to scream.
I knew that.
But I was pretty sure the impact had made me blackout for a second because my mind was suddenly thick and slow. I couldn’t have forced the sound from my brain to my lips no matter how badly I wanted to.
And, God, how I wanted to when a hand grabbed the back of my neck and slammed me against the wall again, a movement that made pain explode through my skull.
My mouth slammed closed so hard that my teeth knocked together, creating another wave of pain even as the first one kept crashing over and over.
Low, whimpering noises started to escape me then, not the loud screams I knew might draw attention, might have someone rushing in to save me.
Helplessness flooded my body as I felt the back of my neck being grabbed yet again, yanking me away from the wall once again.
This time, I had the foresight to raise my hands, to brace and push against the wall.
But he didn’t push me into it again.
No.
The next thing I knew, I was being flung away, going deeper into the alley, crashing hard on my left shoulder, then rolling and rolling until the momentum finally stopped with me on my face on the filthy ground.
A cry escaped me when I pushed a hand under me, trying to get up, watching as blood fell from my face—nose, mouth, I wasn’t sure, everything was screaming in agony—onto the pavement below me.
I had barely gotten up onto my knees when a foot collided with my side, sending me sprawling again.
The weight pressed down on me from behind, hands moving out sliding over my ass.
Something seemed to click in my brain right then, something that had been disconnected when I’d just been getting beaten.
I could handle being mugged or something like that.
But assaulted?
In broad freaking daylight?
Just a couple yards away from possible rescue?
No.
No.
Absolutely freaking not.
I had to do something.
I had to fight back.
I had to stop him.
Even as those thoughts were forming, his hand slipped under the waistband of my pants, teasing over my panties.
I whipped to my side, blinded by the pain that screamed through my system, but managing to reach out.
My hand closed around the hem of his shirt, ripping, before I pulled my arm out to strike instead.
His hand moved out of my pants, reaching for my head again, but I was quick enough to half roll onto my side, giving me more of a range of motion.
My blood-sticky hair was in my face, obscuring my view as I threw out my arm again, this time grabbing the guys ear and pulling.
There was a hiss before my wrist was grabbed and twisted hard enough to make me finally find my voice and cry out.
That, though, was the last sound I would make.
Because the next thing I knew, hands were on my head, yanking up, then slamming down.
And everything went dark.
The next thing I knew again was pain hitting my body all at once as hands reached for me.
“Sh, no. It’s okay. You’re okay,” the voice murmured, sounding distantly familiar, but everything hurt too much to think clearly.
“He’s gone, baby. I’ve got you. I’m gonna get you some help,” he added. “Give me one second,” he said. When he spoke again, it wasn’t to me. “Yeah, she was attacked. Right. Yeah. Between the pawnshop and the candy shop next door. Yeah.
“Where does it hurt?” he asked, giving me a tiny jiggle when I didn’t answer.
“Everywhere.”
“Everywhere,” he repeated. “You’re going to be alright. The ambulance is on its way. I’m going to get someone to contact your brothers,” he added, and was again on the phone, talking to someone, and despite the rough edge to his voice, I found myself comforted by it.
It wasn’t until his hand gently brushed against the side of my face that my brain finally seemed to kick back in.
Jass.
“Jass?” I whimpered, trying to look up at him, but one of my eyes was completely shut. The other was only a small slit.
“Yeah, baby. It’s me. You’re gonna be okay now. Hear that?” he asked, and I heard a siren in the distance. “That’s your ambulance coming. Doctors are gonna get you fixed up and drugged up.”
