“Fuck,” he growls and stops moving.
For a moment, I think I have a small victory until he rears back, his fist clenched, and unleashes a blow against the side of my face.
Pain explodes behind my cheek, and everything goes gray, the colors of the foyer fading. Never in my life have I been hit that hard, and never in my face. I would’ve fallen backward, but his grip on my arm is too tight. As I lift my head and my vision returns, he hits me again before I have a chance to brace myself.
But this time, nothing is gray, and everything goes dark.
My face throbsas I come to. Panic grips my insides as I realize where I am and who’s with me. I don’t dare open my eyes. Not yet. I do a quick check, listeningfor the sound of Mark near me, but I hear nothing. My clothes are still on, which is a relief, but everything else about my current situation has my heart beating double time.
How long have I been out?
Is anyone coming to get me?
I know Oliver will, but it could be hours, and I don’t know how many minutes I have left.
Mark isn’t sane. That much, I knew. No man does what he did to my sister and then goes through all the trouble to lure me here if they’re of sound mind.
Never in my wildest dreams did I think he could be a murderer when we were standing in his place as Zoey told him to drop the charges. But the fact that he could punch me in the face twice without a second thought has me thinking I was wrong about him. He’s way more dangerous than I ever could’ve imagined.
“You’re awake,” he says, his voice way too close to me. “You snore.”
I’m horrified to hear I snore. No one has ever told me that, but I push it out of my mind right now because it’s not important. I thought by staying still, he wouldn’t know whether I was still knocked out. I was wrong.
“I texted your bitch sister,” he says, “but she has my number blocked.”
I will my eyes to open, but the right side is too swollen to be any good. “Don’t hurt her.”
He laughs, and the sound sends goose bumpsskittering across my skin. “The bitch deserves whatever she’s going to get.”
Man, this guy hates women. There’s no one sweeter than Zoey, and although she told him to drop the charges, he is the one who violated her. She’s the victim, not him.
“What did she ever do to you?” I ask, figuring if I can keep him talking, he’ll have less time to hurt me.
“She’s a whore.”
I do another body inventory, realizing my hands are bound and I’m lying on a couch as he sits on a coffee table next to me.
The look on his face is nothing short of terrifying. He has a wicked gleam in his eyes, one I didn’t see the last time I saw him. Mark is good-looking and has probably lured in way too many women with that face, making them all live a nightmare by making the wrong decision to sleep with him.
“Zoey’s not a whore,” I argue. I know I should keep my mouth shut for my own safety, but I can’t let him talk about my sister that way without speaking up to defend her. “She’s a good girl.”
His laugh is deep and sinister, making my goose bumps grow larger. “That bitch wouldn’t know good if it hit her in the face.” He reaches out, running the pad of his index finger along the top of my hand. “But I bet you do. I have a feeling you’re a very good girl, Lulu.”
My stomach threatens to spill its contents, but somehow, I keep everything down.
Do not freak out.
Do not freak out.
Do not freak out.
I keep repeating the statement inside my head, but it doesn’t help an ounce to tamp down the fear that’s taken root deep in the pit of my stomach.
“Don’t touch me,” I tell him, pulling my hands away from his.
“Or what?” he says, scooting to the edge of the coffee table, closing the space between us.
“Or today’s the last day you’ll taste freedom,” I promise him, hoping Oliver will be here soon.
