hurt from being slammed against the wall. Her eyes were wide, not by choice but because the man gripping her neck insisted she keep them open.
She was gasping for oxygen, trying to look anywhere but at the scene in front of her. The man was laughing. Taunting her. “Like what you see, bitch? That’s gonna be you next. You ready for my big cock?”
He shoved his erection against her belly as he spoke, making her cringe. This couldn’t be happening. She closed her eyes, starting to black out from either the stress or the lack of oxygen.
He slammed her head against the wall again, forcing her to open her eyes. “I said to fucking watch, bitch.”
Bex bolted upright, gasping, her hand at her neck.
She jerked her gaze around. Where was she? She was trapped, squished in between something.
Movement at her side made her jerk her gaze down to find someone next to her. She screamed and scrambled to get free, shoving at the man until she could climb out from beside him.
She jumped to her feet, backing up, bumping into the coffee table. All the while, she was rubbing her neck, gasping for air. Eyes wild. Trying to remember where she was.
“Rebekah, baby, you’re okay. It’s me. Bracken.” The man sat up slowly, hands out, palms up.
She froze, blinking at him as she remembered who he was and where she was. “Bracken?”
“Yes. Just me.” He reached out a hand. “Come here, baby.”
She shook her head and backed up, rounding the coffee table. Taking in long, deep breaths, she began to panic all over again. This was why she didn’t want to sleep over. This. Right here. She never wanted anyone to see this side of her.
“Bex…” He rarely used her nickname, but he was using it now. He didn’t move though. Not even to stand. For which she was grateful. “Talk to me. Did you have a nightmare?”
She chuckled, the noise coming out sounding evil and horrifying even to her own ears. “Sure. Yep. A nightmare.” She spun around, looking for her purse. Her shoes. She needed to get out of here. Now. She could call an Uber. Where was her purse?
“Rebekah, take another deep breath. You’re safe. You’re in my house. No one is going to hurt you.”
She spun around, glaring at him. “Too fucking late for that,” she blurted. She resumed her search in vain. Where the hell did she take off her shoes, and where did she set her purse? Her mind wasn’t working.
“Baby, slow down. What are you looking for?”
“My heels and my purse. Where are they? I need to go.”
“Your shoes are under the coffee table.” He bent down to pull them out and hold them up. “Your purse is on the counter in the kitchen. But, baby, I don’t want you to leave like this. Talk to me. Please.”
She shook her head, crazed still. Irrational. She knew it, but she couldn’t stop it.
“Did you have a flashback from the flight?”
She shot him a glare again, knowing it wasn’t fair. This wasn’t his fault. It was her fault. She never should have let things go this far with him. She’d let herself pretend she was in a fairytale. She wasn’t. The real world was cruel and cold. She couldn’t have a piece of everyone else’s world. It wasn’t for her. She’d been foolish to pretend otherwise.
His expression was filled with confusion and concern, and she couldn’t stop herself from cackling before narrowing her gaze. “Who cares about the fucking flight? It wasn’t even me who was taken hostage. It was Christa. And she’s fine. She sleeps like a fucking baby. What about Jenny? She doesn’t sleep at all. She never gets to sleep again.” Her voice was rising. She couldn’t stop it. She was screaming now. “Why should I get to sleep when Jenny doesn’t? Fuck,” she shouted as loud as she could.
She knew she was out of control. Not herself. Not rational. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She needed to get out of here. Now. Before she said more than she’d already blurted.
Bracken rose to his feet slowly.
She shoved her feet into her heels, hopping on one leg while she tried to put the other one on. When she couldn’t steady herself, she muttered, “fuck it,” and took the shoes back off. She didn’t need them. She could go barefoot. She spun around and rushed to the kitchen, finding her purse where he’d said, on the counter. She pulled her phone out, intent on