Page 91 of Fighting My Demons

He grips my wrist in one hand, his hot chest burning into my back as he steps closer. Using his other hand, he places the knife in my hand, wrapping his huge hand around mine, nudging me toward my brother. I swallow when I come to stand beside Brian. Tank's hand on mine runs the knife's point down Brian's side to his ribs.

"Now, you could slide it in here, or…" He moves my hand and taps Brian's chest above his heart with the knife. Brian does not wake yet as I get a closer look at him. If it wasn't for his shallow breathing, I would have thought he was dead.

Tank makes some stabbing motions with my hand wrapped in his, and I look up at him. He kisses my nose. "See? Easy," he purrs, and I nod, turning back to my brother.

With Tank directly behind me, I know I have no choice but to stab Brian.

I try to figure out a non-lethal way to stab someone, but I hav no idea where the arteries are. Sucking in a breath, I try a different method. Pulling my hand back, I make out I am going to stab through his side along his ribs. Instead, I plunge the knife into Brian's upper arm, pretending to miss my target spot.

Tears burn my eyes when he doesn't so much as groan or move.

“I missed," I tell Tank, trying to keep my voice from shaking. My eyes sting with tears as I withdraw the knife.

"Damn, I must have hit him harder than I thought. Look, he is even drooling on himself," Tank chuckles, reaching over and slapping his face.

"Take your time. By the look of Brian, I don't think he will fight you," Tank laughs, letting go of my hand.

I press my lips together, and a lone tear brims and slips down my cheek as I raise the knife to stab Brian in the chest. When I bring the knife down, I divert direction and bring it behind me and into Tank's thigh.

Tank roars and staggers back, and I run for the door, smacking into the doorframe as I burst into the hall and slide into the wall. Tank's booming voice echoes around me tauntingly as I race toward the front door.

"Run all you want, Arabella. You can't escape this house," he says, and I toss the door open only to smack into an invisible wall.

I am thrown backward onto the foyer floor and land on my butt. I stare at the door. Nothing is blocking it; I can see the driveway clearly. Tank's footsteps reach my ears, and I glance over my shoulder to see him strolling toward me. Getting to my feet, he laughs.

"Welcome to our very own prison world, doll. Can't escape me now," he laughs as I run through the living room toward the kitchen.

My heart races as I check all windows, but he is right. I can’t get out. Checking the window above the sink, Tank's voice reaches my ears. "No use, love, the only way out of here is with the casting key."

Tank is leaning against the door frame with his arm folded. He hasn't even pulled the knife from his leg yet. I glance at it protruding from his leg as he pushes off the door frame. His eyes move to stare at his wound. He huffs and smiles.

"Just a flesh wound," he says, yanking it out. Black blood oozes from where I stabbed him, and my eyes dart around the room nervously. The only thing separating us is the dusting island bench.

"You were mine long before Latham's. He will not take you from me. I made a deal with your father, and now I want to claim it. You are mine," Tank growls, his eyes turning a demonic shade of black.

He charges toward me, and I shriek, moving out of reach and to the other side of the island bench.

Tank clicks his tongue. "Naughty girl," he says, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. "Just when we were beginning to have some fun."

"They will come for me," I tell him, moving around the island bench closer to the door leading into the living room, and he laughs louder. The sound sends chills up my spine.

"He can come. I hope he does. There is no way in or out of this house. As I said, I created my prison world, and once my brother watches me claim you, he will give up, because if I can't have you, no one will."

I shake my head. He clearly doesn't know his brother well. Because I know without a doubt they will come for me. I can feel them searching for me. I can't explain how, but I know they are getting closer, and now I just have to keep this asshole distracted long enough for them to get to me.

Chapter Fifty-Five

Latham

Arabella's fear is intense as it rushes through me. Blaine is a nervous jumble of nerves as we try to grasp where she is. We just need her to remain awake long enough to mist to her location. When she wakes up the second time, we get that chance.

"You feel that, right?" Xavier asks, his eyes going wide as he turns his head to look over his shoulder at me, his face lined with worry as his angered demonic eyes meet mine. They are both scared for her and angered my brother would take her.

"He created a prison world," I stammer, feeling his energy strongly gripping onto her, which leaves that as the only conclusion because if he had taken her soul, we wouldn't be able to feel her, and our taints would have severed.

We finally have her location, but a prison world is only accessible by its creator or with a key, which is used to generate the casting of the realm around the place. I can feel where she is, so misting to her is not an issue. However, as I grab Blaine and Xavier's arms to mist out, I am not expecting where we would end up. It’s like some sick joke as I look up at her family home. Where it all began!

I can see my brother's car parked out the front by the iron gates. Nothing seems out of place. It rarely does with prison worlds. They are like a different dimension, of sorts, trapped usually in a time period or something significant. Depending on the casting realm used, you could create all different prison worlds, use a place, a time, or a living vessel. This is what I did to my brother. I imprisoned him in the body of a man who was imprisoned for multiple murders.