Change of Heart - By S.E. Edwards Page 0,32

a table. He spits out a mouthful of blood, then picks himself up and spins around, swinging his knife wildly. The blade catches nothing but air. Rich is already a safe distance away.

Rich and Victor begin to circle one another again. It’s like watching two feral cats, each searching for a weakness in the other. Victor tries another slash, aimed at Rich’s face. Rich swoops beneath it. He slams his makeshift weapon into Victor’s knees. Victor cries out in a mixture of pain and rage.

I don’t know where Rich learned to fight, but I decide that I’d underestimated him before. Even without a real weapon, he’s more than a match for Victor.

As Victor scrambles up again, the blood making a nasty red stain where his mouth should be, I also decide that now is my best chance to slip away unseen.

I crouch low and start to make my way from table to table, keeping to the outside of the room. The sounds of the fight continue. Mostly it’s just Victor’s heavy breathing, interrupted every so often by a curse, or a grunt, or another roar. I take that as a good sign. It means that Rich still has the upper hand.

I creep from table to table, quick as a rabbit. Soon, I’m at the last table before the doors. They’re at the end of a short corridor. But, there’s a problem: There’s nowhere for me to take cover between here and there.

My only chance is to make a run for it. I peek over the tabletop to where the men are fighting. They’re still focused on each other. But if I stand and run, I’d be dangerously exposed. Even if I get outside, I don’t know how far my still-frozen limbs can carry me. I don’t even know where this bar is.

I duck down, considering my options. The grunts and noises of the fight continue. If I wait for Rich to win… then I’ll be putting myself back in his arms.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I do not want to rely on Rich for anything else. Ever again.

That seals my decision. Taking a deep breath, I stand and run forward…

“Penny!” It’s Rich. “No!”

I spin around. Horror fills me at what I see.

Victor is staring at me with rage in his eyes. He’s bloodied and bruised, while Rich is none the worse for wear. But Victor is about twenty feet closer to me than Rich is.

With a vicious snarl, Victor launches himself at me. Horrified, I turn and run for the doors. I reach them, and press down on the handle. They don’t budge.

Oh, shit!!!

I turn around to see the hulking beast of a man lumbering toward me. A sharp beam of light reflects from his cruel blade. I hesitate too long in the corridor, and suddenly I’m trapped. Victor’s massive shape fills my only escape route. He stops, his eyes dark and greedy. He looks like something out of a horror movie. Blood mattes his hair and continues running down his neck. His gaping mouth is red and snarling like an inferno. I have nowhere to go. I—

All of a sudden, Victor crashes to the floor. The knife slides out of his grip and comes to rest at my feet. Bewildered, I look up. Rich has tackled Victor and wrestled him to the ground. They grapple with each other, Victor snarling and trying to flip over, Rich desperately pinning his arms to the ground. The heavier man clearly has the advantage on the floor. Rich might be taller, his arms might be longer, but he doesn’t have Victor’s raw strength. Not even close.

All thought of escape has abandoned me at this point. I know that if I don’t help Rich, he’ll lose. And then Victor will have me to himself. Tam will come back. They’ll tie me up again. Rape me. Maybe worse.

Those possibilities run through my head in less time than it takes to blink. Acting on pure instinct, I grab the knife and rush forward. Rich is still on top, but Victor has managed to turn himself over. Rich is fighting off Victor’s arms with all his might, but he’s at a clear disadvantage. I see my chance. Sliding to my knees, I stop just short of the struggle and press the sharp edge of the blade against Victor’s neck.

The man freezes.

“One wrong move, you asshole,” I say, surprised at the venom in my voice, “and I slit your throat.” I