Page 105 of Brutal
Out.
Again.
The night rushes back in around me—distant traffic, footsteps somewhere down the block, the world continuing like nothing just happened.
Like I wasn’t just?—
I press my palm briefly against the wall to ground myself, feeling the rough texture of the brick under my skin.
I could walk away. Go home. Lock the door. Let this end here.
My fear doesn’t go away. It stays. Sits under my ribs.
I push off the wall…
And I walk…straight back to the club.
27
SAMSON
I close the office door behind me, and the sound of the club hits all at once—music, voices, glass, bodies packed too close together.
And then?—
Her.
Delaney stands just off the edge of the crowd. She isn’t blending in. She’s holding herself still.
I walk toward her. People move out of my way. They always do. I don’t look at them. I don’t slow.
I grab her arm but she yanks it free.
“What happened?” I demand. “Why are you still here?”
“I went outside,” she says.
“And?”
She pauses for a moment. Then she draws in a breath. “I was grabbed.”
Rage curls at my neck, and every cell in my body goes on alert. I’m ready. Ready as I always am. For battle.
“Where?” I growl.
“Half a block down.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t see his face.”
Doesn’t matter.
I reach for her wrist again. She stiffens the moment I touch her, but this time she doesn’t yank it away. I turn her hand over and press my thumb into her palm. Then I look into her eyes, at her lips, at her arms.
No marks. At least no new ones.
“What did he do?” I ask.
