Deviant (Boys of Winter #3) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,105

only option is to run, but I can’t get through the door without passing her. I’m going to have to beat her ass, but how? I have no weapons, no formal training, and an abdomen full of stitches, while she comes fully prepared. I don’t even have my brass knuckles. I took the fucking things off thinking that I’d be safe in the shower.

Where the fuck are the boys? A second ago, I was more than happy that they hadn’t been up here to check on me, but I take it all back. An hour is a long time for them not to at least walk by. Something has to be wrong.

I have to make a break for it.

Seeing the resolve in my eyes, Paris straightens in the doorway, her hand gripping the knife even tighter. She takes a step deeper into the bathroom and my chance at getting out of here quickly begins to dwindle.

I run.

I barge out of the shower, throwing the door open so hard that it shatters against the wall and breaks into a million pieces. My feet slam down against the broken glass, flying out of here with a desperation that makes me feel as though I’m running much slower than I need to be going.

Paris’ eyes shimmer with excitement, and I can’t help but wonder if this is what she wanted. Does she get off on the chase? Does she like being the one in control who gets to sit back and watch everyone around her shitting themselves out of fear?

She’s fucking deranged.

I throw my hands up and try to shove her out of my way. The only shot I’ve got at freedom is getting through this bathroom door and out of my bedroom. From there, she’s got nothing. I might have a stab wound in my abdomen, but youth is on my side. I might not be a great fighter or clever enough to outsmart her, but I’ve been running my whole life. Running from predators, running from foster homes, running from assholes with bad intentions. If I can outrun them, I can outrun this bitch.

My hands slam against her chest and narrowly miss the sharp tip of her blade before her hands fist in my hair and she pulls hard. My feet fall out from under me and she quickly drags me through the glass. “Not today, bitch. We’re seeing this through once and for all.”

I scream as she threatens to tear my hair right from my scalp. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past her. She’s that fucking crazy. “CARVER,” I yell, knowing that he’d be the first one up the stairs, not because the others don’t care enough but because he’s simply the fastest. “CARVER. HELP!”

I fight against Paris’ hold on my hair as she shamelessly drags me through the bathroom and back into my bedroom. A deep, howling laugh tears out of her as I scramble on the floor, desperate for freedom. “Scream all you want, but they’re not coming. It’s just you and me, Princess.”

I kick my legs and my right foot slams right into the center of her back but she doesn’t let up, only laughs louder. “What did you do?” I growl, grabbing hold of her hand over my hair and trying to pry it free. “Where are the boys?”

“What does it matter?” she says, dragging me toward a chair that’s been placed in the center of my bedroom. She pulls with everything she’s got, hauling me across the carpet like a sack of shit and burning my skin. “You’ll be dead by the time I’m through with you.”

Like hell. I kick harder, ignoring the pain in my abdomen and the burning from where she pulls my hair. “WHERE ARE THEY?” My growl is deep and authoritative. It instantly burns my throat, but I push through it, determined not to give up. I will not be dying here today. I need to make sure the boys are okay.

Paris just laughs and adjusts her hold on me until the knife is at my throat. “On the chair, now.”

“Fuck you.”

The blade presses harder and despite my need to fight her every step of the way, if she gets bored of her little, twisted game and slices through my throat, I’m done for and I’ll never get the chance to make sure the guys are alright.

I pull myself up off the ground and slam my naked ass back into the chair with a deep scowl. I watch her every movement