“You’re gonna bleed for what you did back there,” he growled, breath hot at her spine. “And I’m going to enjoy it.”
He wrenched her legs apart.
A sob tore loose. “Tim?—”
“Shut up.” He drove her forward and shoved a hand between her thighs—claiming space, taking, forcing.
Daisy shrieked and bucked, but his fist cracked into her again—hard, brutal—this time at the back of her head. Stone smashed her face. White light detonated behind her eyes. Pain lanced through her skull, and blood flooded her mouth, copper-thick.
He hitched her hips higher, fingers biting into flesh. Time stuttered—flashing, jerking, skipping—as his weight pinned her down.
“Timber!” The word ripped from her raw throat, metallic and burning like fire.
Pressure surged as greedy, seeking hands burned her tender flesh. Daisy screamed again, body trembling violently as his suffocating weight crushed into?—
“Move one more muscle and I’ll fucking kill you.” The words carved the night clean.
Everything froze so fast her stomach lurched.
Hadrian’s weight vanished, yanked back, leaving her fully exposed. Shaking and unstable, she rolled onto her back, arms snapping up to shield her face as jagged breaths ripped out of her.
* * *
Cold air knifed over her skin, rain needling every bare inch.
“Back up.”
Blinking through the rain, she stared at the shadowed figures. Confused and terrified.
Hadrian. And whoever stood beside him. Something glinted at his temple.
A gun.
Hadrian stood rigid with his fingers spread in surrender, hatred burning through his stare, pants half-fallen at his knees. Fury twisted his features.
Violent tremors shook Daisy’s body hard enough to make her teeth clack as she stared in awe at the man holding the gun to Hadrian’s head.
It was him.
The hunter from the balcony. The one she’d danced with earlier. The one who looked at her like something to devour.
He slid his hand into Hadrian’s jacket and withdrew a second handgun. Daisy’s breath hitched, then fell into a whimpering sob.
His eyes cut to her—steady, brutal calm. “You’re safe.”
No, she wasn’t. And his lie stung worse than the rain pelting her skin.
Her body shook in waves of shock as she shivered in the inescapable cold. Her dress lay in a muddied heap at her feet.
Men in black tactical gear swarmed the garden, dark and faceless. They poured out of the hedges, boots chewing up the wet lawn as they closed in.
Too many. One of them lunged toward Daisy, and she screamed and cowered, holding up her hand defensively.
“Don’t touch her,” the hunter in the emerald tux snapped, voice thick with command.
Everything stilled.
Hadrian glared sideways at the other hunter, hands still up. “What the fuck do you think you’re?—”
