How Sinners Fight - Eva Ashwood Page 0,85

to my friends. They were all surrounded by flames, by a roaring fire that licked toward the sky.

And me? Where am I?

I grit my teeth, shoving away the hazy darkness in my head as I blink my eyes open and force them to stay open this time. As I begin to get a better grip on my surroundings, my pulse picks up, my stomach twisting.

My body is being dragged across the forest floor, snagging on branches and rocks and thorns. The person who’s dragging me isn’t all that strong. I can hear the huffs of effort and strain as they try to keep hold of my ankles, pulling me farther and farther away from the flames and the guys. From Max.

No. No you fucking don’t.

Rage and panic swirl inside me. Groping wildly, I try to reach up and grasp my kidnapper’s wrist, hoping to pull them down with me. My nails are ragged and my fingertips are raw from the effort of trying to get Max’s ropes undone, but I manage to sink my fingernails in deep and scrape up my attacker’s skin. A pained shriek rises up in the darkness—high pitched and feminine.

A woman?

Who the fuck is she?

Her grasp loosens, giving me a small opening. I have seconds to flee from her, to get back to Max and the guys. I push myself up onto my feet, the trees spinning around me as I begin to run blindly, but she’s quicker, grabbing on to my hair with a yank.

It’s my turn to scream as she pulls me back to her and tries to get me under control, the mask lifting just enough to show hair sticking to her neck, slick with sweat.

For a second, I imagine Cliff’s face underneath the party mask, smirking and taunting. I know it’s not him—that fucker doesn’t have a scream this feminine—but something about the image, the memory of his attack on me, ignites a primal instinct inside me.

It’s the same instinct that drove me to fight back on the night he tried to rape me. It sparks inside every cell of my body, filling me with animalistic fear and strength.

My limbs move as if I’m possessed, feet kicking, hands striking, nails gouging. Every part of my body becomes a weapon, and I put all of my will and focus behind one simple objective: to get away. To hurt this person before they hurt me.

It was enough to stop Cliff in that alley. Enough to give me an advantage against him, to drive him to the ground and let me overpower him.

But whoever it is I’m fighting now, they’re not Cliff. They may be smaller than him, closer to my size physically, but unlike Cliff, this attacker doesn’t give up. There’s something wild about her, something just as vicious and uncontrolled as I am in this moment. Unlike him, this girl is a match for me.

We hit the ground with a thud, my stomach landing on her back as I pin her to the forest floor. I drive an elbow into her shoulder and tug haphazardly at the back of her mask, snapping the elastic strings that hold it in place. With a grunt, I yank it off her face and roll her roughly onto her back.

As I catch a glimpse of her face, my head rears back in shock.

What the fuck?

Reagan.

What the hell is Reagan doing here?

My first instinct is to look around for Caitlin, half expecting to see her come out of the shadows with a triumphant smile on her face. But there’s no sign of the bitchy blonde. She’s not here.

It’s just… Reagan.

The girl beneath me smirks, the curl of her lips just visible in the dim moonlight. Her dark hair is stuck to her forehead in sweaty strands, and a smear of blood runs from the corner of her lip across her cheek. She looks almost pleased, as if my reaction is just what she was hoping for.

My mind feels like it’s been turned inside out. For a second, I almost wonder if the blow I took to the head earlier is making me see things. Maybe it really is Cliff beneath me, or Caitlin or—somebody who makes sense.

In a flash, Reagan moves. She uses the half-second that I’m taken off guard to flip us over, bucking her hips and shoving me off. My head slams into the ground as she covers my mouth and nose with hands that seem far too powerful for her small body. Screaming, I bite