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No, no, no, no!Panic welled before Loren could help it. Memories jarred through her thoughts like blows, threatening to drown her in fear. Fred Connors’ harsh hands on her bare skin. Older, darker memories she could never relive without screaming.
No, no, no…
With a grunt, Kyle knocked her legs out from under her, and she went down hard, coughing on mud and snow. One final yank, and he succeeded in tearing the jacket from her shoulders. She could feel his fingers tugging at her thermal next.
Hide, that old, familiar part of her whispered.Curl up. Disappear. This isn’t happening…
A tendril of recognition shocked her—it was the same voice that had lulled her the night she killed Fred Connors. That same desperate urge to just give up.Give in.Kyle was too big—too strong. There was no way in hell that she could fight him…
Bill had been right all along. She’d confused his strength for her own. Alone, without his presence, she couldn’t drown out the doubt.
She was too weak. Useless.
Give in.
“I wonder what McGoven will think when he sees you with me?” She heard Kyle remark. His hands had left her shirt and had begun to work on her pants instead, thick fingers attempting to slide beneath her waist in search of the zipper. “I can just picture the look on his face.”
Loren could, too—silver eyes burning with rage, perhaps glaring from the body of a black wolf. He’d hate himself for ever letting her do this in the first place. For trusting that she could handle herself.
Just like that, the suffocating fear went away. Suddenly everything was lethally sharp and as crystal clear as the thick snowflakes that had begun to fall. McGoven would come—a part of her just knew he would. The same way she knew without a doubt that he would protect her. Defend. Fight. Die…
If she were to prove herself, it had to be now.
Kyle never expected her to move so fast, which was probably the only reason she managed to catch him off guard as she reached out behind her, nails drawn, and swiped blindly at his arm. The moment she felt the give of flesh beneath her fingertips, she dug in, raking down until she felt the warmth of blood.
“Fuck!” Kyle drew back with a hiss of pain, and Loren lurched to her feet—but for the first time, her only impulse wasn’t to run.
Instead, she turned, facing Kyle as he crouched, snarling at the sight of his arm. The deep ruts left by her nails bled freely, leaving a metallic scent in the air, but fear didn’t deter her from taking a step toward him. And then another. The wind tore at her hair, whipping it out behind her as she lifted her foot, swaying with the effort, and delivered a strong enough kick that he fell back.
He stared up at her, dazed as she balanced the sole of her boot on the center of his chest and crouched down, much like he had. After a second, he started to struggle, cursing as he attempted to shrug her off. “What the hell—”
Loren didn’t have to raise a single finger to stop him. All she did was stare into those eyes and finally release the anger she supposed had been building within her all this time. Building during those dark years living with Uncle Bart, and the months living with Fred Connors… It flared, like a smoldering inferno, blazing white-hot.
Like a puppet with its strings cut, Kyle fell back. His head hit the ground with barely athump!Before he could regroup,Loren allowed herself to utter only one, single word that flew from her tongue as easily as if she’d been born to say it.
“Submit.”
It wasn’t like the previous instance in the woods.
This time, uttering the word was merely a formality. A part of her surged, just as violently as his previous assault. Instead of hurting him physically, this penetration went deeper.
Into his mind? Thoughts flooded her conscious, but they weren’t her own—or even like McGoven’s. They were prickly, wrought with so much rage and hatred nausea churned her stomach as they unfolded.
So much anger.
So much loathing.
But beneath it all was a pain that took her breath away. She winced at the force of it, feeling tears prickle her eyes.
“N-No,” she heard Kyle rasp, though his voice seemed to come from miles away. “No.”
He tried to resist—she could feel it—much in the same way she fought against McGoven’s commands what felt like a lifetime ago. But as she stared into his horrified gaze, Loren realized that the fight was over before it even began.
“You don’t hate Bill,” she croaked, feeling a mixture of shame and disgust wash over her in response. “You hatehim.”
An image came to mind, growing in clarity—blue eyes, blond hair, mocking smile. She wondered if Kyle was even aware of the subconscious truth nestled within his own mind.
“You always knew,” she went on, as the color drained from the face of the man before her. He looked hollow. Broken.
