“What’s the time?” I ask.
He pauses, then checks his watch. “Quarter to nine. Why?”
“No reason,” I whisper.
Three hours. I got to the premiere at four thirty, and I was probably only there for an hour before the bombs went off. Which means that I’ve been kidnapped for overthree hours.And no one has come.
How is that possible? Can the Angels not find me? Isn’t this their job?
If they haven’t been able to track me down by now, something must have gone wrong. My heart sinks. God. They must be hurt. Or dead. I don’t know what happened after we left. Maybe more bombs went off. For all I know, the entire premiere got blown up.
Whatever’s happened, I’ve bought myself as much time as I can afford.X’s free hand slides up my thigh, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
I can’t do it. This sweet, submissive act seems to be working, but there’s only so far I’m willing to go. I’d rather die than let X rape me.
I can’t wait for the men anymore. I’m going to have to find my own way out of here.
X shifts even closer, touching his thumb to my lips. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for years,” he whispers. “I’ve imagined it so many times. In bed, late at night.” His breath touches the side of my cheek. It smells like sour wine and meat. His hand slides higher under my dress, caressing my thigh.
I grab his wrist, holding it in place. “Touch me,” I say clearly, “and I’ll gouge out your motherfucking eyes.”
Forty-Seven
Kenta
?
The drive to the location is a nightmare.
Matt is losing it. I haven’t seen him get so lost in his flashbacks in a long, long time. It’s like they’re rolling over him in waves. Every few minutes, he’s clenching up, panting, trying to wrestle out of his seatbelt or slamming a fist against the inside of the car door. I try to talk him through them, but it’s getting harder and harder to reach him. I can tell he feels trapped in here, so I have Glen open the skylight in the car’s roof—then shut it again almost immediately, as Matt grabs onto it like he’s going to climb right out of the car and jump onto the road.
The officer in the driver’s seat looks downright terrified. He keeps twisting in his seat to stare at Matt, as if he’s about to pull out his gun and start shooting us all.
“Is he going to…” he starts, as Matt slams a hand against the car door, panting.
“Stop looking at him,” I snap, and the man’s eyes widen. He turns to face forward. I check the GPS. We’re twelve minutes out. Just twelve minutes. I swear to God, every second feels like an hour. The road ahead of us is dark and empty; it’s really more of a dirt trail, and the trees are so dense here that the headlights only light the path a few metres ahead. We’re forced to drive slower so we don’t crash. I grit my teeth. It’s taking too long. We need to be therenow.
Matt jerks in his seat. I sigh. “Matt. C’mon, man. You’re good.”
I put a hand on his shoulder, and he wheels, throwing his fist at me sloppily. I shift out of the way, catch his wrist, and force my fingers between his, holding his hand. Holding hishand.If any of the guys back at Angel HQ ever saw this, they’d probably take a photo and distribute it to all the staff in a high priority email. Frame it and hang it in everyone's offices. Get an artist to turn it into the company Christmas card. But I don’t know what else to do. It worked when Briar did it.
“C’mon,” I mutter. “You’re good. Listen. Everyone here is speaking English. You’re good.”
He looks down at our joined hands. His throat jumps. “I love her,” he says suddenly.
“I noticed.”
His fingers tighten on mine, gripping me hard, and my heart just about breaks.
Forty-Eight
Briar
?
“What?” X smiles widely, shaking his head like he has water in his ears. “Sorry, angel. I must have misheard. What did you say?”
“I don’t think you misheard,” I say, finally dropping the sickly sweet tone. “Get off me, before I rip out your intestine, blow it up, and knot it into a fucking balloon animal while you watch. How’s that for aprivate, personal show,you sexist, psychopathic little freak?”
