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Giving him room to nod without the point spearing his eyeball out of his head, I withdrew the knife from his eye a fraction. As I’d expected, he nodded frantically.
I risked releasing him. There was the chance he’d not think straight and try to take me on again, but his friend was long gone and I was armed, so I had no doubt he’d lose. Luckily—for him—he made the right choice.
“Fucking cunt,” he spat when he got far enough away. “I didn’t want a little whore like that anyway.”
I took a threatening step forwards, and he practically yelped in fear and then turned and ran.
“Prick,” I muttered.
Pocketing the knife again, I pushed my hair back from my face. I didn’t want to have to take on some traumatised girl, but I also wasn’t going to just leave her there. She might have friends in the club who she could call on.
I stared down at the young woman huddled on the ground, and the realisation that I recognised her hit me with a shock.
Ivy fucking Gilligan.
What the hell was she doing here?
Chapter Two
Ivy
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IGULPED BACK A SOB, my face wet with tears. I’d been so stupid, coming here alone. I’d thought it would be safe because there were so many people around, but I’d been wrong.
Things always went too far in my life. I was starting to think it was built into our genes.
Everything had happened so fast, and it was dark, so I hadn’t realised who my rescuer was until the two men had gone and he turned to face me. The absolute last person I’d wanted to get involved was Jayden Wynter.
This arsehole had a reputation for being no better than the two men who’d tried to rape me.
I scooted back even farther, my back pressed to the dirty brick wall. The ground beneath me was filthy, too, and my dress had rucked up so the bare skin of my thighs and bottom scraped against the pavement. Was he going to finish off what they’d started? Could he even have been in on it, and this whole thing was a setup?
But no, from the way he’d handled those two, I didn’t think they’d known each other. I’d genuinely thought one of them was going to end up with his eyeball quivering on the end of Jayden’s knife at one point. I wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but a part of me wanted for exactly that to happen.
I couldn’t shake off the feel of those men’s hands on my skin, like their fingerprints had left a physical mark on me. The scent of them—stale alcohol, cigarettes, and sweat—still filled my nostrils, and I could taste one of them in my mouth from where he’d grabbed my face and shoved his tongue between my lips. Nausea rolled through me in a slow, sickening wave, and I twisted to one side, sucking in deep lungfuls of air, praying it would pass.
