Stepping back, I lean against the wall and watch the rats burrow their way out, not moving a muscle until I can hear his shrill screams cut off. Part of me wonders how much of this was for answers and how much was for a girl I’m not sure we can trust.
EMMA
Mondays are the devil. My head is still pounding as I make my way to the gym. School got out a few hours ago, but I stayed to work on some new tactical moves with Mikhael. My throat almost closed running through scenarios with anyone but dad, but with everything happening, I can’t afford to let sentiment get in the way of safety.
I was heading out when I discovered I didn’t grab my phone off the bench in the locker room.
The squeak of shoes on the linoleum floor makes my senses go on high alert. My ears perk up, and I subtly increase my pace. I’m sure it’s nothing, but I won’t be caught off-guard.
I’m almost ten feet from the girls’ locker room when one squeak turns to a few. Turning my head slightly, I let out a sigh when I see it’s only some idiots leaving football practice.
My entire body loosens.
Paranoid much bitch? Not that I don’t have good reason to be, but Thomas has assured me that they have increased security measures. So, the school should be safe.
I see my phone right where I left it. Grabbing it off the bench, I turn to leave when the lights in the locker room cut out.
Oh, fuck no!
I sense the hands before they reach me. I jump back, only to bump into another body, their hands wrapping around my frame, trying to immobilize me.
The same distorted voice from the recording whispers in my ear, “Keep still, and this won’t be all bad for you, you trash slut!”
What the fuck? Only one person in this damn school calls me that.
“Rowan?” I ask, lifting my foot to kick my docs into this asshole’s shin. I can’t believe he would do this.
Wait. Yes, I can.
The voice speaks again, “You wish we were one of the heirs, you money-hungry cock tease. But don’t worry, we were told you like it rough and dirty, and we’re here to satisfy your every depraved need. Aren’t we?”
“What the actual fuck are you even talking about?” I’m outnumbered and alone, but my mouth can’t seem to give a fuck. “I don’t know who told you that, but fuck you and your plan,” I say as I swing the heel of my boot and head back simultaneously.
I hear the crack of a nose breaking and shrieks of pain as I’m released from the arms of whoever is holding me. Not hesitating, I dodge the sounds of swearing and shoes against the floor.
“The stupid bitch broke my nose,” the asshole starts, but I don’t stick around to hear the rest of what he’s saying.
Instead, I take off, darting to the door, running straight into the hulking arms of some Bruce Banner sized motherfucker.
“You might as well stop playing hard to get, or this won’t be as gentle for you,” his distorted voice whispers before licking the side of my face.
My body goes tight, muscles constricting, trying to hold off the roiling in my stomach. I have nothing witty to say here. I just need to survive.
“Do you know how much we get for girls like you?” another smarmy voice says.
I’m not even entertaining that comment with a response because they’re not taking me any-fucking-place. I just need to figure a way out.
When he thinks he has control over me, I go limp. Catching him off guard, he loses his footing, loosening his grip enough to free my arm, and I go into attack mode.
Straightening my hand, my fingers stiff, I chop him in his Adam’s apple then drag my nails down his face. Gasping for air, he drops, and my body hits the ground with a thud.
My body is pumped up with adrenaline, so I don’t feel the pain, and what I’m sure will become a bruise. Rolling up, I close my fist and punch him in the dick, and like the Goliath he is, he tumbles to the ground, his head thwacking against the tiled floor, going still.
Scuttling on my knees, I reach the door, scrambling to reach the handle. I yank it open and dive out of the locker room.
I’m just getting to my feet when I hear the creak of the door, and I take off down the hall, coming across the boys’ locker room door, and dash inside.
My labored breaths echo in the empty room as I try to control my breathing and find somewhere to hide and call Thomas. Walking deeper into the locker room, I hear running water beating against a surface and music. The closer I get, the more I can make out someone singing a song.
I’m about to identify the singer when simultaneously a muscular calf steps out of the shower and a melodic voice belts out the words to
I Knew You Were Trouble.
The naked ass of Rowan is the first thing I see before he turns around, and I’m introduced to why he walks around so full of himself.
Holy shit.
He’s not bulky. He has more of a swimmer’s frame, washboard abs that lead to a well-defined Adonis belt and he’s long, and I do mean long, everywhere.
Tilting my head, I blink and pinch myself to ensure it’s not a dream.
Are they all this big? I’ve seen my fair share of porn dicks, but that’s porn. I thought dicks this big were unicorns.
He yelps once he recognizes he isn’t alone.
“What the fuck are you doing in here trash?” He snarls, through gritted teeth, waking me from my reverie.
“Taylor Swift?” I ask, quirking a brow, forgetting the danger pursuing me until I hear a door slamming against the wall.
“Fuck, we need to hide,” I whisper yell, reaching for his arm and ignoring his glistening chest.
Yanking out of my grasp, he grabs a towel, wraps it around his waist, and yells, “What the hell have you gotten yourself into now?”
“Shut up before you send out a solar flare of our location,” I demand while trying to find a place to hide, and continue, “Some assholes cornered me in the girls’ locker room and tried to assault me.”
His eyes bulge, surprise lining his face.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.