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"Chad! Let go! Help... HELP ME!!" I thrashed, nails raking his neck and face, drawing bloody lines across his skin.

The scratches only excited him more.

Chad wiped blood from his cheek, eyes gleaming with sick thrill. He ignored my screams and grabbed the soft flesh at my waist, then lowered his head like a rabid dog toward my exposed throat.

His other hand fumbled with his belt buckle. Metal clinked open.

Despair rose over my head like freezing water. No weapon within reach. The door hung ajar. Outside, only wind and rain. No one would hear me scream.

I turned my head away with the last of my strength. Closed my eyes. Tears flooded down my face.

Why is God doing this to me? What did I do wrong?

Just as his vile mouth was about to touch my skin—

The door opened.

Chapter 25

Marcelo & Ruby

Marcelo

"Don, we found her."

Rocco's voice crackled through the Bluetooth, swallowed by engine roar and rushing wind. I slammed the accelerator, pushing one-twenty, blowing through my third red light.

"Address."

"New Jersey. Hoboken. 412 Oak Street, third floor, left side." Rocco paused. "Don, should I send—"

"No." I cut him off. "Lock down the IS·MA building and every route she might take. If she comes back to Manhattan, alert me immediately."

"Yes, sir."

I hung up. My knuckles went white on the wheel.

Rain hammered the windshield. The wipers screamed across the glass but couldn't keep up. I didn't care. I just needed to reach her, make her listen.

She'd blocked me.

Thirty-seven missed calls. Twenty-four texts. All into the void. HR said she'd hung up on the executive office directive in front of everyone and stormed out of the building.

She was running.

But I'd be damned if I'd let her crawl back into her little world and pretend we were nothing.

I screeched to a stop in the narrow alley, water exploding waist-high.

I took the concrete steps three at a time, dress shoes splashing through puddles. The motion-sensor lights in the hallway had died long ago. Mold and cheap cleaner burned my nostrils.

But as I reached the third-floor landing, before I could even knock, a scream tore through the cracked door—raw and bleeding and desperate.

"So what if I slept with him for money? So what if I'm a whore—you'll never touch me! At least Marcelo pays me! At least he's a real man, and you're a piece of rotting trash! I need the money! I NEED IT!!"

My feet turned to stone.

Every drop of blood in my veins froze solid. My heart took a sledgehammer blow, pain strangling the breath from my lungs.