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Not like this.
Just then, the blare of his cell phone cuts through the air like a siren.
“Maybe you should—” His hand goes to my throat and squeezes.
“This is happening, baby. Right here, right now.” He works his cock free ,and I feel it against my thigh, thick and hard and ready to take something that isn’t his to take.
But the ringing doesn’t stop. Eventually, he rips his cell out of his pocket and glances at the screen.
“Who is it?” I ask shakily.
“Channing.”
Relief floods me. Sasha got my message. She got it and she got help.
Cade narrows his eyes at me and then glances back at the screen.
It stops suddenly, but a text message follows.
“Fuck,” Cade mumbles to himself as he reads it, rolling off and sitting up. “Motherfucking fuck.”
“What is it?” I ask, smoothing down my skirt.
“We need to leave, now. Get your shit and let’s go.” He leaps up and storms off toward the car.
I grab my purse, pull out my cell phone and quickly text Sasha.
Mia: Thank you… thank you.
17
Bexley
I sit on a bench outside the Henderson building waiting for Channing to appear after his last class of the day, staring down at my cell.
At Mia’s last message.
My grip on the phone tightens until I'm sure it's about to buckle under my fingers.
Mouse: I won't be in class today. Don't worry, everything is fine.
How can she say that and think I'm not going to worry? Especially when I learn who else isn't in class today.
What has he done with her… to her?
A million and one questions flash through my mind as images of him taking what's mine emerge faster than I can control, threatening to turn me into a version of myself I hate.
Red hot fury stirs in my belly as I stare at my reply. She's read it. I can see the little ticks.
But she never responded.
"Fuck," I mutter to myself, dragging my hand through my hair and tugging until it s
tings.
Just reply and tell me you're okay, I plead, staring at her previous words.
"Hey," a familiar voice says before feet appear in my vision. "What's wrong?"
