in a furious tug. He returned the knife to his pocket and leaned in, grabbing my breast hard. I needed to let him forget himself. To sink deep into his fantasy, the one he’d been playing and replaying in his head since my brother’s death. The one in which he took the very last layer of me, the only thing protecting my soul, the worst thing he could possibly do to me.
Rage was rising in me. I was shaking with it under his hands, my lips drawn over my teeth.
“We’re the same,” Regan said. “Are you starting to feel it?”
He came within range. I had been waiting.
I jutted my head forward and grabbed his bottom lip in my teeth, snapped my jaws shut. His gasp and then howl sent my blood rushing hot and wild through my body. Regan tore himself away, and I spat his blood on the ground.
While he was distracted, I made my move, backing into the beam with my arms out behind me as far as they would stretch. In one swift, hard motion, I leaped forward, tugging my arms forward against the beam. It didn’t work the first time. My wrists banged against the corner of the beam, the cable tie holding fast.
Regan watched, confused by my purpose. I tugged the cable tie tighter, the final few clicks of hard plastic pulling taut, so tight my eyes were watering, then attempted the move again.
With an audible snap, the plastic tie broke on the corner of the beam, and my hands were free.
Regan smiled. He set his feet, ready for me to come at him.
I took a moment to shake the blood flow back into my fingers.
“Oh, I’ve been looking forward to this,” I said.
Chapter 104
HE’D SPENT FIFTEEN YEARS in prison learning to fight. That much was clear from the beginning, when he failed to approach me, letting me come to him, putting me at a disadvantage.
I faked and he pretended to fall for it, then ducked when I swung at him, twisted and brought his elbow up and into my face. I felt my teeth crunch together. The blood was immediate, warm as it fell down my chin and dripped onto my exposed chest. I stepped back, zipped my jacket up, and wiped my mouth on the collar.
He waited for me to come again, but I refused. As he came charging toward me, I bent and ducked out of the way, gave him a hard, short jab in the ribs as he passed.
The anger was all-consuming, urged on by my exhaustion, the pain in my bleeding wrists and wounded leg. I needed to breathe, think of him as just any other opponent, and not the man who had destroyed my brother. Not the man who would unleash all of my worst nightmares on me if I let him subdue me again. I needed to ignore the horrific plan Regan had laid out for me, the one I saw in his eyes as he bent toward my mouth. His Harriet, finally captured. His to draw along on a string, just like Vada, his to break down and experiment with as his sick desires dictated.
Regan grabbed at my shoulder, tried to land a punch in my midsection.
There was no time. I swung wildly at his face, not even a punch but a furious scratch. It was a lucky shot, right across the eyes. While he was blinded, I landed two hard, heavy punches to the side of his head.
As he went down, he grabbed my calf in his enormous hand and pulled. We fell together, his arms around me suddenly, thick and hard as tree branches. His giant hand pinned my head against the ground. The other grabbed my wrist as I tried to swipe at him again, squeezing so hard, I could feel the bones bend. There was a neat line of teeth marks between his bottom lip and chin.
“No one’s coming for you, Harry,” he said. “It’s you and me. You have to face what you are now. You have to see. Sam didn’t get that chance.”
I roared at the sound of my brother’s name, scraped the side of my boot hard down his shin. He tried to steady his position on top of me, but I used his weight to keep him rolling, then jabbed an elbow into his stomach. I got up and staggered away from him. He rose, fists clenched. I’d made a mistake, rolling him right into the pallets where he