Page 45 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

I was the fastest in my class, already training with the high school track team. I pushed full throttle, but they were taller, their strides swallowing the distance. The trees loomed ahead—so close.

An arm snaked around my torso, yanking me off the ground. My blade slipped from my fingers as my ribs compressed in a brutal squeeze.

“Get off!” I sobbed over my shoulder as the air crushed from my lungs. Heckles and taunts rained down, growing sicker with every breath.

Bitch. Whore. Pretty little fuck toy.

I swallowed back a scream. This wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be happening.

A plan formed, desperate and reckless. I lolled my head sideways, eyes sliding closed as I went limp.

“Hey,” my captor barked, alarm lacing his tone as my body slumped.

“What the fuck?” Someone advanced. Crew? His voice was sharp. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Nothing,” the other hissed. Hands braced my weight. A shake rattled through me, my head lolling the other way. Voices pitched up, their threats shifting into panic.

I exhaled. And stopped inhaling.

My captor spewed a string of curses. “Lay her down. Dammit. What the fuck did you do?”

Crew. That was Crew.

As he lowered me, I planted my feet—one crushing his toes into the dirt—and rocketed upright. The crunch of bone filled me with satisfaction. My eyes snapped open onto a horrified face.

Crew.

I grinned. And head-butted him. Again.

The world exploded into chaos.

I sprinted through the group, someone barking to let me go.

“That bitch is crazy!”

Damn straight, you twatwaffle.

The sleeping cabins were too far, but the rec shed—where Chad always kept the keys to the lifeguard’s speedboat—was fifty yards away.

I bolted.

Half the distance closed when my instincts screamed. Someone was on my heels.

“Porter!”

I didn't stop.

“Porter! Hey!”

Shit. Too close.

Three steps.

I launched toward the boat. Just one more⁠—

A hard, lanky body slammed into me.

We hit the deck. Keys flew from my fingers, scraping across the wood. Arms wrapped around me, tucking me against his frame as we rolled. I barely registered the crack⁠—