Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76381 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 382(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
I needed to calm down.
Coach came back to my mind, one hand on his chest, another on his stomach, reminding me to breathe into my heart, then deeper into my belly. Hold. Release. Over and over. Until the frantic thoughts fell away.
It seemed impossible to try to meditate at a time like this, but if there was any hope of survival, let alone escape, I had to be able to focus.
So I did just that, letting the van fall away, until my mind went blissfully blank.
I came back to the moment slowly, trying to stay detached, to think past the panic.
There were less of them this time.
That was the first thing I realized.
The first time I’d been taken, there’d been two men in the front and three in the back.
Now, the numbers were down.
Did one of Riff or Raff’s bullets completely debilitate the others? Kill them, maybe?
One could only hope.
It didn’t really matter.
All that mattered was there were fewer of them.
My main abductor, the one with his hands on me, his breath wetting the shell of my ear. Then the driver.
That was it.
Just two of them.
Bigger and stronger, yes, but this gave me a chance, unlike last time. There was hope.
I just had to get away.
If I could get out of the van, I could run and scream. Someone would come. I had to believe that.
The van took a sharp turn, throwing me against the wall. I bit back a sob as my abductor squashed me against the wall, his intentions clear.
Not again.
Never fucking again.
“You can’t get away from me,” he growled in my ear. “You’re mine.”
That was the exact wrong thing to say.
Because I wasn’t his.
I would never be his again.
I was Riff’s, damnit.
No one was ever going to touch me again but him.
He ground into me, and the bile rose up my throat for a second. Swallowing it back, I felt the van brake hard.
Wherever we were, the journey was done.
And that only meant one thing.
The bad shit was going to start.
“Turn the music on,” my abductor demanded of the driver. “I want to be able to hear her scream.”
A sound rose up in my throat, something he seemed to take as a cry, as fear.
But it wasn’t that.
No.
This time, it wasn’t terror building in my system.
It was rage.
And there was another difference this time too.
I wasn’t the same woman I’d been last spring.
My time in Shady Valley had changed me, strengthened me. Both mind and body.
I wasn’t helpless anymore.
All my lessons with Nyx came flooding back to me. Hours and hours spent learning how to watch an attacker’s body, the way their legs would shift before they charged or struck. Seeing that gave you an advantage of speed.
I spent just as many hours learning how to duck and pivot, to shuffle out of the way.
But just as much focus as she’d spent on teaching me to get away from an attack, she’d spent teaching me how to fight someone off.
The main focus of her women’s self-defense classes was to show you how to use an attacker’s strength against them, since we would most likely be against someone who was bigger and physically stronger than us.
That was certainly true of my abductor.
He was wide around the middle, fleshy from the junk food that made him so greasy all the time too. But he had trunk-like legs and arms that could easily pick me up and toss me around.
So I had to be quicker and smarter.
The music turned on, a disorienting metal shrieking sound that pierced through my skull.
I cursed the music, since Nyx said all of our senses were vital in a fight. She told me that, eventually, I would get to a point where she would start to blindfold me to teach me how to be able to fight with only my other senses.
But there’d never been anything about not being able to hear. Hell, not even be able to think with the music so loud.
It didn’t matter, though.
I could see.
I could feel.
That would have to be good enough.
My gaze scanned around the van, looking for anything that might be used as a weapon.
There was a bare foam mattress on the floor near the back, the material of it stained in spots. The sight of it made my stomach twist, so I forced my gaze away.
There was a suitcase on the floor, but it was zipped, its contents hidden from view.
The walls were metal, at least, as was the floor that wasn’t covered by the mattress.
It was always good to have a hard surface to slam someone against or into.
It was something.
It would have to be enough.
Heartbeat tripping into overdrive, this time more with adrenaline than fear, I watched as the driver turned in his seat, his beady eyes roaming over me.
Luckily, this time, he wasn’t seeing much.