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I needed to get back to him.
I needed this to end.
“Maybe my men will have just as much fun, or maybe even more. No doubt the whore runs in your veins.”
I threw my body forward, slamming into him with every ounce of energy left inside me. My momentum pushed him onto his back, and with the weight of us both, the glass table shattered into pieces beneath us.
I wouldn’t let him speak like that of her.
She wasn’t a whore.
She would have seen through Isiah. She was far too smart to think a man like him could be anything more than deadly.
Whether she really cared for Huntsman or not, I wasn’t sure. But what I did know was that he got her out.
The both of us hit the ground with a thud, in a pile of fucking broken glass. I rolled to the side, across the shards, groaning in pain.
“You stupid little whore,” Isiah screamed as two men helped him up off the floor. He shook, whether in rage or shock, I wasn’t quite sure, but there was a deep gash across his palm, blood already streaming down his arm and a couple little cuts across his face. If he had any more injuries, I couldn’t see them, and he seemed to be standing pretty well, even with blood dripping continuously onto the carpet.
I instantly knew I was in trouble, though.
Deep fucking trouble.
I’d let my anger and need to protect my mom’s name get the better of me and hadn’t thought about what I was doing. A blinding pain in my leg alerted me to the fact that I hadn’t exactly got away scot-free. And that I should probably have thought twice about throwing myself at this fucking psychopath into a glass table. Because there was now a four-inch gash in the side of my thigh, and the blood was already beginning to come to the surface and drip over the sides.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Romeo’s voice boomed through the room, stalling the crazy for a moment, and in that second, I thought everything was going to be fine.
I was going to get out of here.
Isiah was going to get what he deserved.
That’s what I thought.
“My buyer said he wanted her uninjured.”
I thought wrong.
