Page 107 of The Vixen

“Actually, I pissed off her boyfriend,” I finally answer Ratface’s question. “You probably remember him. Big guy. Tribal tattoo around his bicep. Likes to break toes. Ring a bell?”

Ratface glares a moment before raking his eyes down my body. “She gives you nice clothes.”

“Yup. And if you untie my wrists, you can have them. She’ll give me more as soon as she comes to get me and my friend.”

“You think she’s gonna come for you?” Foster asks. Ratface belts out that high-pitched laugh that grates my ears and makes my chest expand.

I can feel the attack coming. The Keepers, now out of food, leave the tunnel, Aiden’s friend trudging behind. More Dregs turn this way. Not all of them will be brave enough to kill the Head Keeper’s pet, but at least a quarter will feel it’s worth it. The others…

I glance at Liberty.

Most haven’t seen a woman in averylong time.

“Yeah, I do. And I feel sorry for anyone who decides to fuck with either of her pets.” I look up at the ceiling. “There are cameras everywhere in these tunnels. There are probably Keepers informing her right now of this conversation.”

“Mmm.” Foster nods. “You know what’s interesting about that?”

I just stare.

“You didn’t seem concerned about any cameras when you came to rob the place and left us to rot.”

He gets close and gives Liberty a leer before whispering in my ear. “Don’t worry... We’ll leave you alive long enough to watch.”

I suck in a sharp breath at the comment—as if remotely surprised to hear his plan. I canhearhim smile at the reaction, feel his satisfied breath against my ear. A bully is the same at forty as they are at twelve; give them an advantage and they’ll make torment a game.

I’ve never once played fair.

As soon as he pulls back, a smirk stretching his lips, I slam my forehead into his nose with a force that makes my vision burst with bright light. I’ve already got my foot raised and I’m slamming it into Ratface’s kneecap before I can even see, going off memory alone.

Ratface shrieks as he buckles to the ground.

Foster stays upright, though wobbly, his hand pressed to his gushing nose. Before he can recover, I slam my foot into his groin and jerk my attention to the other Dregs as he howls and drops to his knees.

“I don’t want any trouble,” I yell toward the others. My body swings as three Dregs start to close in. “My friend is going to untie my hands, and then all my belongings are yours. As soon as the Head Keeper comes, I swear to God I’ll get more food for the Dregs. But I have to be alive to do that.”

When a man with every last rib showing lunges at me, I shift my body and ram him into the bars, which isn’t that hard considering he weighs about a hundred pounds. But another comes right after him and jabs his thumbs toward my eyes. When Liberty screams, I know they’ve reached her.

I jerk my head until one of his thumbs comes in contact with my mouth, then I bite down until I taste blood.

“Ahh!” He kicks me away and sends me into the bars.

I zero in on the guy who’s reached Liberty, his hand flinching from her leg when she screams and thrashes. When someone grasps my shoulder, I rip away to barrel toward the guy with Liberty, my knee smashing into his head before I fall against the wall.

I’m yanked back by my shoulders and thrown to the ground, and as soon as the first punch lands to my jaw, I know I’ve lost.

The sound of prisoners cheering floods my mind while a long-haired mountain-man looking asshole wraps both handsaround my neck and squeezes; his teeth bare like a maniac. My hands jerk against the rope as I try to thrash, but it’s less than useless.

Then, through the cheering, a feminine shriek pierces the room. The Mountain-man’s eyes pop as rope weaves around his neck and tightens until his face turns purple.

I gasp and choke as his hands leave my throat. He claws at the rope around his neck, but it’s so tight, his fingers can’t dig beneath.

He reaches behind him to remove the screaming banshee, but Liberty doesn’t relent. Her body jerks as he bucks and tries to stand, only to wind up collapsing on top of me, his hands still reaching behind him.

The prisoners' cheers dim until it’s mostly Liberty’s battle cry that fills the space. When the Mountain-man goes limp, she drags him off me then jumps up with the rope held like she’s ready to strike.

A couple people exchange a look before one starts toward her, but a Dreg known as Chasity—I have no idea why, maybe it’s his actual name—steps between them and raises a hand.

“Enough!” he booms in his full outfit, complete with boots and a beanie. Needless to say, he’s one of the most vicious among the Dregs.