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I drag in a slow breath through my nose, gathering myself. Reminding myself why I’m here. I’m not that kid anymore. He doesn’t have the upper hand.
Not that he knows that.
The bark is rough against my back as he presses me to it, not giving a shit about my comfort. He’s already panting and eager. Ivan kisses at my neck, and I can feel his stubble and the heat of his breath against my skin.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he breathes into my ear. “I just want to have a little fun. You’re so fucking hot, and I can’t help myself. So just hold still, and nothing bad has to happen.”
Hearing his voice again, saying that bullshit, is enough to make anger simmer in me, edging out the fear once and for all. I know what I’m here to do.
His hands go low again, pulling up the hem of my skirt, and I snap into action. I rear back and then headbutt him, getting him right in the throat.
Ivan splutters and backs up a bit, coughing and wheezing. When he looks up, he’s glaring at me, but anger isn’t the only heat in his eyes.
“What the fuck, you bitch?” he snarls, his voice a low hiss. “You’re supposed to struggle, not fight back.”
But he’s hard. I can tell from the way his pants are tented. He likes the fight. Likes the idea of having to subdue me first before he can take what he wants. He wants to be rougher about it.
Ivan grabs me again, and I know I’m right. He’s being rougher, almost violent as he yanks me closer to him. I can feel his hands digging into my skin, and it’s like his touch burns.
I struggle against him, trying to pull away, and his breath starts coming faster. When he presses me against the tree again, I can feel how hard he is, and he grinds against me, trying to get more friction.
“You can’t get away,” he breathes. “You’re mine now, bitch.”
I prove him wrong by breaking his hold and stumbling back, but he grabs me again and hauls me back in. His mouth goes to my neck, and he drags his tongue over my pulse point. There’s a sickening lurch in my stomach just from the feeling of it, and I knee him in the balls for the trouble.
Ivan curses in agony and drops to his knees in front of me, eyes screwed up in pain.
That’s my opening.
I’m wearing a bracelet that I picked up from a sketchy little shop a year or so ago. It’s silver and thin, with a little gemstone set into it. The gem is just big enough to grab, and when I pull at it, it slides out of place, attached to a thin wire that’s been wound into the bracelet.
Perfect to garrote a motherfucker who deserves it in the middle of the night.
I jump on Ivan’s back and wrap that wire around his neck, drawing it tight.
“Stop!” he gasps. “What are you doing?”
I still don’t speak.
He flails, trying to get free, but I hold on tight.
He’s still bigger and stronger than me, but I’m not weak. And determination burns through my body, giving me more strength. I hold the wire in place tightly, counting down in my head until he finally goes limp and slumps to the path.
For a second, everything is quiet.
Then four men step out of the shadows.
My heart skips a beat, and I have just enough time to wonder if Ivan brought backup after all for this little shit show, but when I look up, I relax.
It’s the Kings.
Knox comes closer, a savage grin on his face. “Allow us, sweetheart,” he says, and the pet name somehow fits perfectly with his dangerous tone.
My fingers are so tight on the wire I used to choke Ivan out, and I don’t want to let go of it. But I know this isn’t done yet. We need to get him out of here to finish the job. He’s unconscious, and I let him go, getting to my feet.
On cue, the guys move in and grab him.
