Jackson drops his head to nuzzle into my neck, his nose dragging along my skin. “Carrson’s a fool,” he murmurs, “I’ll bond you. Keep you. You’ll learn to want it.”
“You keep bringing him up,” I taunt. “I think you’re more obsessed with him than I am.” I let out a high, mocking laugh. “It’s pathetic, really. Even when you’re on top of me, he’s still the only thing in your head, isn’t he? You don’t even want me, Jackson. You want to taste his leftovers so you can pretend you’re at the same table. But you aren’t. You’re the dog under it, waiting for the scraps he throws away.”
That does it. Jackson’s face contorts. His lazy smugness evaporates, and rage takes its place.
“Watch your mouth you little bi—”
I don’t let him finish. I explode upward. My knee drives hard into his side, not a perfect strike, hampered by an awkward angle, but still, it’s enough to throw him off balance. At the same time, I wrench one hand free, sliding it out from under him, scrambling backward across the dirt.
He grabs for me, fingers catching my ankle, but I kick hard, connecting with his wrist.
I’m on my feet before he is.
“Fuck,” he snarls, pushing up to follow me.
I move sideways and head toward the tree. Once I’m close, my hand shoots out, fingers scraping against bark until they close around something solid, cold, and hard.
The dagger.
Jackson realizes a beat too late.
“What—”
I rip the knife free and drop to my knees, twisting as I drive it backward into him. I’ve seen this before, the angle, the timing, the strike. Out here in the woods, all those times we spent together. Carrson’s moves, but now they’re mine.
The blade punches into the meat of Jackson’s lower leg. There’s resistance as it grinds through muscle, skimming bone, then a wet, sickening sound as thetip bursts out the back of his calf. Jackson roars, his leg buckling. He falls, one knee slamming into the dirt and the other extended.
I stagger back, staring at the knife lodged through him, hilt buried against the front of his leg, the blood-slick tip jutting out behind.
Jackson grabs for it, his fingers closing around it, but then he stops. Even he knows better than to pull it free. He lifts his head, eyes blazing.
“You—” he hisses, teeth bared. “You stupid—”
“Don’t,” I snap, cutting him off. I lunge forward and rip the knife from his leg.
Jackson lets out a raw shriek. His hand clamps over the wound, blood pouring through his fingers, dark and steady. He tries to stand, but his calf gives out each time he puts weight on it.
I cross my arms over my chest, my breathing slowing as I take another step back, just outside the reach of his arms.
“You think this changes anything?” he snarls. “I own you, Becky.”
“I don’t belong to anyone,” I bite back.
Even on his knees with blood dripping down his leg, he smiles. “That’s not how this works, he says. “The bonding. The Order.” His gaze drags over me, deliberately invasive. “You don’t get a choice in this. Women never do. You’re mine.”
The forest goes very, very quiet. Rage surges through me, making everything snap into focus. I take a step forward and brandish the blade.
“Say that again,” I dare.
He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look at the knife.
“Mine,”he repeats his claim. “You just don’t know it yet.”
He’s not trying to scare me. He believes it. Which makes him infinitely more dangerous.
I raise the dagger and jab it forward, making him flinch. “Listen carefully,” I say. “You picked the wrong girl. Touch me again and—” I lift the dagger slightly, letting him see exactly how steady my hand is. “I won’t stop at your leg.” I look pointedly at his groin, just to make sure he understands.
“Stay down,” I tell him, walking backward. I want to get out of here before he figures how to stand. When I hit the edge of the clearing, I take in a deep breath.It’s the first real lungful of air I’ve had since I walked into the dining hall. Relief crashes over me.
