He lifts his leg.
Now.
While he’s off balance, one foot poised for the next step, I kick out my heel, hitting him full in the chest. Surprised by my attack, he loses his balance and goes down hard, air bursting from his lungs when his back hits the pavement below.
I sprint down the stairs, but fingers clamp around my ankle and yank. Pain explodes in my knees as I hit the ground. I kick wildly, connecting with something soft, and scramble up.
A shove slams me sideways into a brick wall. “Fuck—” My heel snaps with a sharp crack. My palms scrape painfully when I catch myself on rough brick.
He’s on me in a heartbeat. My cheek scrapes the wall as he presses the palm of his hand with his full weight against my skull. The scent of copper floods my nostrils.
Blood. His? Mine? The other man’s?
I don’t know and I don’t care.
I buck hard and get one scream out before his hand closes around my throat and he spins me around.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch.” His breath is hot, and his eyes glow with an unholy light. He mutters something in his language that sounds almost gleeful and yanks my dress up.
“Pretty girl. I’m going to tear you apart. You’ll make me a lot of money.”
The promise makes my blood run ice cold.
My back slams against the wall twice, his fingers flexing against my windpipe. Black dots gather at the edges.
Without conscious thought, my fingers claw upward. Using all my strength, I rake my nails down his face.
His grip loosens just enough, and I suck in a lungful of air.
My coughing and choking seem to excite him. His grin widens, and then, still clutching the knife in his fist, he punches me hard, catching my cheek.
I let my body go limp as if the blow knocked me out, hoping to throw him off, and I land in a heap on the cold pavement.
“That’s better.” He grunts, and I hear the clink of metal as he undoes his belt.
My gaze catches on my broken shoe, with the metal spike exposed. Just inches away. My fingers close around it as he hauls me up. It may not do much, but it’s the only weapon I have.
Time slows.
I feel the cold pavement under my knees, the grit digging into my palm. Keeping my body slack, I wait for him to pull me up, his weight shifting as he compensates for mine.
My skin and the muscles in my shoulder scream as I rotate it past where the scars, internal and external, want to allow and then swing with all my strength, driving the shoe, spike out, toward his face.
He jerks back, making me miss, but I hear a soft thwack as the heel catches him in the side of his neck. With his chin jutted up to avoid the shoe, the spike plunges into the unprotected skin of his throat instead.
For a moment, everything freezes, and we stare at each other with enormous eyes. His expression contorts in confusion. Then, with a wet, gasping sound, he grabs at the wound where dark red is bubbling up and then surges through his fingers.
Animal instincts fully engaged, I don’t wait to watch him fall.
I run.
My bare feet slap against the disgusting alley pavement.
I sprint past the first victim, my legs shaking so hard my knees almost buckle. The alley spins, and an obscene thud behind me tells me my attacker has dropped.
I pivot to look back, and my stomach lurches at the crimson pool spreading under him, vivid despite the murky light.
My teeth chatter as a bone-chilling cold seeps through me.
