Page 103 of Brutal
This isn’t happening.
This is?—
No.
It is.
My body knows it before my brain does.
I’m in danger.
Real and immediate danger.
My heart slams again, harder this time, adrenaline hitting like a bomb dropping.
I try to pull free.
I can’t.
Not even a shift.
He’s stronger.
My stomach churns, and I go still. Not because I want to. Because I have to.
My breathing is uneven, too fast, and I force it down, force it slower, even as my pulse keeps racing.
Think.
Think.
This isn’t random. This can’t be random. There’s no fumbling. No hesitation. No voice raised in threat or demand.
He shifts closer. Just enough that I can feel the heat of him, the space collapsing in a way that makes everything else fall away.
My back presses harder into the brick. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to move, and the reality of that settles in deep and cold.
I can’t get out of this.
Not by force.
My body wants to fight again.
I don’t let it.
Not yet.
Not until I understand.
I tilt my head slightly, trying to catch his face, but it’s shadowed. Which is worse. This person knows what he’s doing.
He tightens his grip, just barely, but enough to remind me exactly how easily he could break me.
My pulse jumps again, and fear surges with it.
“It didn’t end that night. And if you don’t stop this, it will never end.”
His voice is low.
