Page 47 of Dark Alliance
“You’re nowhere, Cat. Nowhere anyone’s going to find you. And never mind about your hitman.”
He’s right. I usually stay in the city during the week to prevent my father and Nino from noticing my absence. I often disappear from work for a few days at a time, and Curator Pruitt never says anything. He probably believes I’m dealing with my father’s doctor’s appointments.
I’m so screwed.
Connor kneels in front of me and pulls out a pair of scissors from behind his back.
Tears streak down my cheeks. I kick away from him and curl into myself, fear curdling my stomach and threatening to rise up my throat.
Connor clicks his tongue. “Behave, Cat.” He grabs a leg and stretches it out.
I shudder, too weak to extract myself. “What are you doing?” Bile burns the back of my mouth as he cuts my slacks off. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry. I was just trying to help my father.” I’m crying openly now as Connor moves to the other pant leg and slides the scissors up to my waist, ripping through the material with ease.
He grabs the pants by the crotch and tears them out from under me.
I’m sitting on the floor of some warehouse in a place he’s called Nowhere in a pair of black cotton underwear, ankle boots, and a green button-down that I know will soon meet its death beneath his scissors.
What the hell is my life? Why is this happening to me?
We’re even, aren’t we? We both lied…
He stares at me, my ruined pants in his fists. “We’re going to play by my rules now. I don’t like yours. They almost got me killed. Twice.”
“I said I’m sorry!” My voice cracks.
“I heard you.” He does as I expected, opening the scissors and slicing up the middle of my shirt. Then he moves to each arm, shredding the blouse underneath my button-down as well.
When he rises to admire his work, I’m in a white bra and black underwear. Cold from the floor seeps into my thighs, and goosebumps erupt over my skin. The cement isn’t half as frigid as the look in Connor’s dark eyes, though.
I shudder, my chest heaving in my attempt to stop the bubbling panic, that tight, heavy ball threatening to drown me.
“I could forgive you. Maybe. If, and that’s a big, fat, girthy, pulsatingif…” He kneels beside me, scissors in hand. “If we do things my way. And if I believe you’re truly sorry for undermining me. For lying to me. For attempting to kill me.” He exhales as he snips at my underwear.
“Connor. Please don’t do this.” I’m begging, and I don’t even care. At this point, I just want to survive the next few hours with all of me intact.
The cold blade burns my stomach before slicing my underwear in half and exposing me. My brain wants to scream until my vocal chords break, but some deep, dark part of my soul…enjoys this.
I don’t want to admit that traitorous truth, but being at his mercy, unable to move, to stop him…
Whatever comes next both intrigues and frightens me.
“Roll over.”
Relief floods me as I do. He can read me like no other, and this way, I can hide my face.
Connor cuts my underwear completely off, tosses the fabric to the side, and unhooks my bra.
I roll back over so I can witness his worst. This bra cost over a hundred bucks. It’s no easy task finding comfortable support for someone as well-endowed as I am. And it’s a stupid thought, the dumbest in the history of dumb thoughts when your life is on the line, but there it is, in my brain, all the same.
Of all things, I’m mad about the prospect of him ruining my bra.
He removes the final piece of my dignity by cutting through each strap and tossing it on top of the heap of shorn fabric.
After that, he walks away.
“Connor, come on.” I shiver on the freezing floor. “Don’t leave me like this!”
A minute later, the demon materializes from the shadows once more.
