Page 1 of Riding Hard

PROLOGUE

JULIETTE

I pinch my eyes closed as I push my back against the door and hope that the wood holds—or whatever doors are made out of, I hope that holds. Victor slams his fist against the top of the door again. Then there is a slam against my back, and I know he’s kicked it from the other side, too.

I try to stay quiet, but he knows where I am, so it’s pointless. It’s more for me, so that I can possibly hear him on the other side and anticipate what is coming next. There’s nowhere else I could be but here, hiding from him.

He knows I’m here.

It’s not like I’m trying to keep anything from him. But at this point, I’m just trying to survive.

Bringing my knees against my chest, I wrap my arms around my shins and hold on in an attempt to make myself as small as humanly possible. It doesn’t work. I don’t turn into a speck of dust or vanish into another realm, as badly as I want to.

When I force myself to open my eyes, I am right where I was. Unfortunately, I have not vanished behind a door. I’m still in a dark closet, wondering not for the first time how my life came to be this—any of it.

Staying where I am, I force myself to take deep cleansing breaths as I whisper to myself.

It’s the same mantra I’ve used since this started with Victor. When the pain and heartache began after all the sweet and soft, which didn’t last long. Just long enough to hook me in, because I’m an idiot.

“I trust myself to take the next step. I am stronger than this moment. I trust myself to take the next step. I am stronger than this moment.”

Maybe one day, I’ll believe the words I keep chanting to myself, or maybe one day, it won’t matter because I’ll be dead. It might be easier that way, if I weren’t around anymore. I know it isn’t as simple as just leaving, as just walking away, and I know that because I’ve tried.

I left several months ago, for the second time. He found me and brought me back—dragged me. Then he beat me so badly, causing me pain in so many different ways, that I couldn’t physically leave again for weeks. I’m surprised I survived at all, to be honest.

“You’re a fucking cunt, Juliette,” he hisses. “You can’t hide in there forever.”

He kicks the door one last time, and then I hear his boots walk away. I don’t hope he’s walked away, because I know he doesn’t go far.

He never does.

In fact, a few seconds later, I hear the sound of a chair being dragged across the house. The scraping noise sends a chill of fear down my spine. He slams it down on the floor, no doubt making a loud show of it, just to scare me.

Unfortunately, it works.

Goose bumps break out over every inch of my body.

“I’m waiting right here for you, baby,” he calls out.

His taunting voice quickly turns into a purr, and it sends a chill of fear down my spine. I worry the skin on the inside of my cheek with my teeth, moving it side to side while I try to keep from panicking.

My mouth fills with the taste of blood. The longer I stay in here, the worse it’s going to get. I already know that. I’m not sure what I thought I was going to accomplish by running from him. But tonight, I just knew the moment he threw the glass filled with water at me, it was going to be bad.

And as I replay the events of tonight over in my head, I know I was right.

Victor stood from the table, taking one menacing step toward me, then another, before he began to charge. So I ran and hid in the closet, which wasn’t my best or smartest decision. I should have gone outside and kept running as far away as possible.

It would have been better than sitting here while he lies in wait for me to come out. Because he knows I can’t stay in here forever, and there is no other way out aside from the door I’m currently leaning against.

I trust myself to take the next step. I am stronger than this moment.

I trust myself to take the next step. I am stronger than this moment.

Standing slowly, I turn around and reach for the handle of the door. Pinching my eyes closed, I let out a heavy sigh as I twist the knob and gently pull the door open. He’s sitting directly across from me.

Victor seems calm, but I know the truth. He has one leg crossed over the other, his ankle resting on his knee, with his fingers laced together, relaxing behind his head. He’s holding his body loose, but he’s ready to strike at any given moment.

I don’t make a move toward him, and he doesn’t say anything immediately.