“Mutilate me?” His mouth curves into an insult of a smirk. “Kitten, I’m going to make you beg for mercy.”
I snap my arm up, sending the knife flying straight at his face. He dodges with infuriating ease, but the blade catches his cheek, leaving a thin, angry slice.
I bolt for the back, fling the door open—but it never makes it past halfway. A crushing force slams it shut.
One arm locks around my waist, yanking me back against his chest like I weigh nothing. My scream dies in my throat. His body is hard, solid steel pressing against my spine.
“You think this is a game?”
I twist, kick, fight, but it’s useless. His grip tightens, forearm digging into my ribs. Every breath’s a struggle.
“Let. Me. Go.”
He presses his face to my ear. The scent of him—mint and metal—makes me nauseous.
“You screamed when I shot you. Let’s see how loud you get this time.”
His hand finds the bandage under my hoodie and presses down. Hard. My knees buckle, pain searing through me like fire. I choke on the sound trying to claw its way out.
“Come on. Let me hear your pretty scream.”
“Fuck you,” I spit out through clenched teeth.
He laughs. “Maybe later. You’ll beg for that too.” The burn of unshed tears prickles my eyes, but I bite them back, locking down every sliver of pain.
I inch my hand toward the knife in my back pocket, but before I can even grip it, his cold fingers close around my throat, crushing down. Gasping, I fight for air as he presses harder on my wound.
“Scream,” he snarls in my ear. I grit my teeth, stubborn, hanging onto the last shred of control I have left.
He sighs then drives his thumb into my wound, ripping the stiches. A wave of searing pain tears through me and a strangled scream escapes. He lets go of my throat, and I gulp down air.
Relief is short-lived.
He’s distracted for half a second.
I twist hard, knife flashing up as I drag the blade across his chest. A deep, angry line splits open under his shirt. He grunts, eyes narrowing as pain flashes through that cold, dead stare.
In one brutal yank, I’m slammed to the concrete. My head cracks against the floor, the impact blinding. Stars burst behind my eyes. Air leaves my lungs.
Before I can recover, he’s on me.
Straddling my hips. Pinning my arms above my head in a crushing grip that cuts off blood flow and dislodges the knife from my grip. The weight of him is suffocating. He pulls his own knife from his pocket and presses it straight into the wound on my side.
Pain explodes. A white-hot, all-consuming fire that rips another scream from my throat before I can swallow it down.
“Get the fuck off me!” I thrash beneath him, every muscle straining to break free.
He shifts his weight and drives the blade deeper. The rest of the stitches split. Blood pours. My body convulses beneath him, and hot tears spill despite everything in me trying to hold them back.
“Stop—fuck you?—”
His lips twitch into something that isn’t quite a smile.
“Look at you. Still fighting.” He presses harder, twisting the blade. “So fucking pretty when you break.”
I suck in a sharp breath, barely able to hold on.
“I’m going to bleed you dry, kitten. You’ll beg for mercy.” He leans in closer, his breath hot on my ear, knife still buried in my side. “And when that’s gone too, when all that fight’s ripped out of you, you’ll beg for me.”
