Page 68 of Splintered Desire

“Run, run, run!” Jace’s voice calls out from my left, stopping me in my tracks. “If I catch you, we’re going to pick up where we left off last time!”

The sheer unadulterated joy in his voice makes my stomach turn as I remember waking to him stroking his cock inches from my face and the way he came when I stabbed him.

As if outrunning Tank wasn’t an impossible enough task already.

I whip back around and put everything I have into each step. If I can just get out of here, I can be free.

No more crazy-ass DuPont business.

I’ll move away and change my name if I have to; it’s not like anything else is holding me here.

I’m pulled from my daydream and reminded of my current mission through hell when I hear the snap of a twig far too close.

My hair plasters itself to my face as I whip around, but I can’t see more than two or three feet in front of me with the all-consuming darkness that surrounds me. My heart rate skyrockets as I spin around in place, feeling like I’m choking on the very thing I need to survive because I’m not alone.

I know it; I can feel them even if I can’t see them.

“Tank!?” I shout, wanting them to know I know they’re here. It could be Jace, but he doesn’t strike me as the sneak attack type, not with how excited he is to get his hands on me.

I learned to fight my demons a long time ago. I might be afraid, but I won’t cower. If he wants a fight, he can get one, because I’m prepared to go down swinging.

What I’m not prepared for is for him to hit me like a freight train from behind, tackling me face-first into the mud.

For a terrifying moment, I can’t breathe before he moves, and the pain in my head and now ribs makes itself known.

“It’s nothing personal, but I have people I can’t let down even if that means I have to put my own morals aside,” he breathes into my ear, his voice deep and raspy even with the mask as a barrier.

I thrash out, kick, and flail, but it’s no use; he’s got an easy hundred and fifty pounds on me, not to mention I’m already half delirious from Widow's hit, exhausted, and freezing.

I’d go so far as to say the warmth of his body is calling to me, but despite that, I’m not dumb enough to know this ends anyway but one.

I’ve done this before.

Trusted the wrong people.

He flips me onto my back as if I’m nothing, as if I’m not using every ounce of my strength and energy to get away. His hand comes up to circle around my throat, not enough to choke me, but enough to keep me down, especially on my already bruised airway. His fingers flex, silently letting me know how easily he could change that.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he hisses, as if he thinks that will make me give in.

It doesn’t, and it won’t. The only way I’m going to stop is if he makes me.

With a groan of annoyance, he reaches for my arm that claws at him wherever I can reach, pushing it down into the mud above my head with ease.

“I assure you, Little Fox, I’m a much better choice than the fucking psycho,” he spits the last bit, letting me know just how much he also dislikes the DuPonts, or at least Jace; yet, still, he’s their lapdog.

A monster by association is still a fucking monster.

Releasing my throat, he makes quick work of my other hand, pinning them both above me in one of his own as his other moves down my body, and I feel the tears well in my eyes.

“I really am sorry.”

His fingers grip the hem of my oversized sweatshirt, tugging it up before his eyes take in my shorts. Instead of pulling them down, he simply runs his hand up my thigh before his hand disappears, and a moment later, I feel the heat of his cock against my thigh.

I scream, a feral, primal sound ripped from somewhere deep inside of me, as I give everything I have left and manage to free one of my arms, ripping his mask from his face and making him curse.

He’s distracted, and with the tiny bit of room I have to move, I thrust my thigh up as hard as I can and hear the sweet sound of his moan of pain when I get him in the nuts and he all but crumples forward.

So maybe he has two hundred pounds on me because it feels like I’m about to be crushed to death, but somehow I manage to roll him off of me; pushing up on my hands and knees, I’m prepared to crawl away if that’s what I have to do.