Page 10 of Stolen Trophy


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The leader sighs. “This complicates things.”

“No shit, boss,” the big man I nut punched snarls.

“What do we do?” Booker grumbles.

Just then, the sound of sirens cuts through the quiet apartment. I freeze, smiling slightly at the turn of events. The front desk or neighbours must have heard the fight and called the police. These bastards won’t get away with it, and I’m going to survive this.

“That complicates things more.” The leader groans. “We need to get out of here now.”

“What about her?” Eric asks, winking at me when I glower at him.

The leader debates it, physically hesitating. “We can’t leave her, she saw us. Shit, she knows a few names.” He narrows his eyes on me. “We are going to have to take her with us.”

“Over my fucking dead body,” I sneer.

“That can be arranged, sweetheart,” Nut Punch retorts, his voice dark and angry. Men are so touchy when it comes to their balls.

“We can’t have her screaming,” Booker replies, eyeing me.

“Oh, don’t worry. I can fix that and take great fucking pleasure in it,” the big guy says. I barely have time to open my mouth with a response before his thick, huge fist swings towards my face.

I feel the impact and a bright spot of pain, then nothing but darkness.

He fucking knocked me out. It’s my last thought before I know nothing else.

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