I pocketed my phone before he could argue further, grabbed my keys, and headed downstairs.
Dom, Marco, and Vinnie were at the tattoo shop, setting up for the day. Sloane was there too, perched on the counter with a coffee cup, probably harassing them about her next tattoo idea.
“Feeling better?” Dom called out. I’d told my friends I was feeling shitty yesterday, so obviously the men knew by now. Sloane gossiped with them more than she worked.
“Much better. Just running an errand.”
“Want company?”
“It’s three blocks. I think I can manage.”
I headed out into the morning sunshine, feeling lighter than I had in days. The fresh air was nice. The normalcy was nice. Everything was nice.
The street was quiet, that lazy morning lull between commuter rush and lunch crowd. I passed the coffee shop, the dry cleaner, the little boutique with the ugly mannequins…But when I passed the only alleyway in the way, someone grabbed my arm and yanked.
“Shit!” I stumbled, caught myself on a brick wall, and whirled around with my heart in my throat. “Fuck.” The curse slipped past my lips when I saw who was standing in front of me.
Damien.
He looked like hell. Worse than hell. His hair was wild, unwashed, sticking up in every direction. His clothes were wrinkled and stained. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his pupils were dilated in a way that suggested he was either on something or hadn’t slept in days.
Maybe both.
“You fucking bitch,” he snarled. “You think you can do this to me?”
My blood ran cold. “Damien...”
“Drop the lawsuit.” He snarled at me.
“What lawsuit?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.” He was pacing, erratic, unstable like a caged animal. “The contract dispute, the fucking case you filed against me.”
My mind raced. I hadn’t filed anything. I didn’t have money for lawyers. I had no idea what he was talking about.
“I didn’t file...”
He slapped me. I was so shocked I couldn’t do anything but stare. It wasn’t like before. Before, he was controlled. Cruel, but careful not to leave marks that would show. Smart enough to hit where clothes would cover.
This was different. This was hard enough to snap my head to the side, to make me see stars, hard enough that I tasted blood where my teeth cut the inside of my cheek.
I gasped, hand flying to my face.
“Don’t lie to me,” Damien hissed. “I know it was you. Who else would it be? You want to ruin me? You want to take everything I built?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice was shaking. I was scared now, really scared. This wasn’t the Damien I knew. He was unhinged, dangerous, completely unpredictable.
“You’ve got twenty-four hours to drop it, or I swear to god, Riley...”
“I didn’t file anything!”
He grabbed me by the throat.
His fingers closed around my neck, squeezing, and my panic went from manageable to full-blown terror in the space of a heartbeat. I clawed at his hands, but he was stronger than me, and he was pushing me back against the wall, and I couldn’t breathe...
“You think I’m fucking around?” His face was inches from mine, spittle flying. “You think I won’t end you? I made you. I can unmake you.”
I couldn’t scream or breathe. The pressure on my throat was cutting off everything. Air, sound, thought.
