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Merda.
"That won't do you any good now, bitch," he sneered, grabbing the book out of the air only to hurl it back at me. I hadn't hit my target. He had.
It left me breathless. I rushed past him anyway. I hoped somehow to get to the door, which he had torn off its hinges.
"Where are you going,salame? You don't think you can escape from me."
If I could just make it down the hall and downstairs, when I reached the front door and got outside I just had to be fast enough.
My gaze fell on the parapet, and before I could waste a second thought, I had moved. I wasn't running; I was sprinting, as if I were going for Olympic gold.
My fingers closed around the parapet, ready to lift myself over it and jump down to the other floor so that I could reach the door and
A hand much too big grabbed my hair, yanked me back.
"Don't even think about it!" he hissed.
I kicked at him. I lunged with my elbows, trying to catch anything of his. To scratch him, to bite him, to make his life hell and to make him regret having come here at all.
Growling, I yanked at the hand in my hair, yelling at him to let go of me. He had all kinds of problems holding onto me.
The second I realized he had let go of me to tighten his grip again, I grabbed the railing and jumped.
Pain exploded in my shoulder as I rolled on the hard tiles. My left foot failed me as I ran toward the door. Just a few feet. Only a few meters
This time the hand tightened around my neck and I knew that I had lost and the next possibility to escape was to irritate him so much that he broke my neck.
I considered it, but before I could act, he took away what would have been of some use to me in my fight against him: my consciousness.
The acrid smell of chloroform ate through my nose and robbed me of my last bit of resistance.
16
Dario
Istared at the clock on my smartphone and then back at the front door. Normally, Gia was long on her way to her walk by this time, but so far she hadn't shown up.
It didn't seem unlike her to skip the walk. However, it didn't fit with my plans, and it felt strange to write to her and ask if she felt like doing something. So far, the most we had done was talk on the phone, and there had been no official dates.
Either she showed up at the club– or I showed up at her front door.
I gritted my teeth and opened the app, which gave me information about the location of her smartphone. Seconds later, I knew for sure: she was in her apartment.
Less than thrilled that I had to pick her up there, I went to the front door, took the key from its hiding place, and let myself in.
Taking two flights of stairs at a time, I hurried upstairs, but as I set foot on the first floor, I knew intuitively that something was wrong. And I only had to turn to the side to get confirmation of that: The apartment door was wide open.
Something told me that Gia would not be waiting for me in there in provocative lingerie.
Ice flowed in my veins instead of blood as I took a few steps and paused on the threshold of her apartment.
It was a disaster. But not like last time, no. It looked like a fight, and that caused a sinking feeling in my stomach.
My cell phone already in my hand, I entered and looked around. There were no clues, except for Gia had disappeared, but her smartphone must still be somewhere
I spotted it on the kitchen floor, picked it up and unlocked it. It took my brain two seconds to recognize the chat. We never had one, but the top line had my name. And in the message field, a single word.
She had never gotten around to sending the message.
