Page 43 of The October Trials

But my body won’t cooperate.

The asshole sets the chainsaw down. “You know,” he says, moving closer, “I’ve been watching you all night. Wondering when I’d get my chance.”

Move. Blair, fucking move.

He drops to his knees beside me, one hand reaching for my ankle. His fingers are cold. Wrong. And it’s just the thing I need to kick my brain into overdrive. Fucking finally.

I twist hard, driving my dirty boot into whatever body part of his I can reach. I think I catch him in the jaw. When he grunts and loosens his grip, I scramble back through wet leaves and soil, thorns slicing my hands.

But he’s faster. They always are—these men who stopped being men long ago. Whatever humanity they once had has been stripped away, leaving nothing but the monster underneath.

“You’re going to regret that, bitch.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

His fist tangles in my hair, wrenching my head back until fire streaks across my scalp. Searing pain shoots down my neck, forcing a hiss between my teeth.

I do what any woman trapped beneath a vicious man hell-bent on revenge would do—I scream.

The sound rips through the rotting woods, only to be cut short when he yanks me up by my hair. He drags me back and slams me against the nearest tree, hard enough to send stars bursting behind my eyelids.

“I’m not like Cage. I don’t get off on you kicking and screaming. So I suggest you fucking quit it,” he hisses.

It’s hard to control the bile rising in my throat when he nuzzles into my neck, kissing, and kicks my feet apart. His unsavory hand travels up my thighs.

I’m staring evil in the face, knowing I’ll have to let it infect my soul if I want to survive tonight. Why is this world so cruel?

Nonetheless, I make my choice. I lunge forward instead of scrambling away. I’m not scared anymore. If this night has taught me anything, it’s that the scared and the helpless end up in hell.

And I’ll make sure this gremlin rots there long before I do.

Copper floods my mouth as I sink my teeth into the soft meat of his neck, trying with all my might to take a chunk with me.

He wants to kiss my neck? I will bite his off.

“Stupid bitch—”

Bam.

A sharp crack splits the dark. A wet, strained sound leaves the asshole’s throat as he drops, blood gushing out of his left leg.

Footsteps approach, and I’d know that sound anywhere.

Doc Martens boots. The heavy black leather makes a small thud with each step.

Cage emerges from the shadows like a knight in shining fucking armor. There’s a gun in his right hand, smoke still curling from the barrel. His face—his gorgeous, stupid face—is uncovered and glowing in the moonlight.

His entire focus is on the prick writhing on the ground, making laborious whimpering noises. That’s what he gets. It almost pleases me to watch the blood steadily pooling beneath his leg.

“You shot me for this bitch?!” he gasps, clutching his leg.

“Go.” Cage’s voice is so low it’s almost a whispered growl. “I want my time with him.”

The asshole’s whimpering intensifies. He tries to drag himself backward, his injured leg leaving a smear of red across the wet leaves, but the oak tree is in his way.

Go.

The word finally penetrates my shock. My body remembers how to move again.