I begin backpedaling, intent on making a hasty exit, but Finnegan is too fast for me.
He lunges at me and snags my arm, yanking me toward him. I crash into his large chest and his fingers dig into my biceps painfully. He turns me and presses me up against the bookshelves in the exact spot they had the Freshman pinned.
Oh, shit.
Oh, fuck.
This is bad. This is really, really bad and suddenly, I can’t quite breathe as panic shoots through me like lightning.
Finnegan makes room for Jon Eric, who wraps his hand around my throat. This is nothing like when Saint did it, this cuts off my air, making me feel like there’s a slowly inflating balloon in my head. The guy must get off on choking people. And I can see by the crazed look in his eyes that pain, not dominance, is his number one goal.
“This is our lucky night, Finn,” Jon Eric chuckles and alarms blare in my head when I catch a whiff of the booze on his breath. “I’ve been wanting a taste of this girl’s cunt. Want to find out why she’s got Angelle so twisted up, the prick.”
“Let me—” I start, but he squeezes his fingers, stealing my words and breath and any last threads of courage. I struggle and claw at his arm, but he doesn’t relent until stars start exploding in my vision. Before I can pass out, he lets up his grip and I gasp air into my desperate lungs.
“Did you fuck them all?” Finnegan asks, reaching out to sift a strand of my dark hair between his fingertips. “Halloway’s got it bad for you, too.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s let them all go at her at once.” Jon Eric vibrates his hand a little and I gag. “Is that it, slut? Do you let them all fuck you? Is that why they all seemed so fucking pussy-whipped? Wonder who gets which hole…”
“Go to hell,” I manage to spit out.
Jon Eric squeezes again and my lungs burn. I dig my nails into his arm, drawing blood, but it doesn’t seem to faze him. He’s smiling like a madman as he chokes the life out of me, and I think he might be capable of actually killing me. Finnegan’s certainly not going to stop him. I try to kick out at them, but I’m growing woozy and weak.
“Careful, she’s going to pass out,” Finnegan says, though he doesn’t sound at all concerned. In fact, he sounds … thrilled.
“That’s fine,” Jon Eric replies. “I don’t need the bitch conscious. Not as long as I’ve got spit and—
“And just what do you think you’re doing, touching something that belongs to me?”
Jon Eric’s hand instantly loosens, and air rushes back into my lungs. It burns but is such a relief I let out a cry. He and Finnegan turn to glare down the row, and after taking myself a moment to catch my breath, I also look to see who just saved my damn life. My eyes go wide, but I shouldn’t be surprised.
Standing at the end of the aisle, his face dark with quiet fury, is Saint.
13
The air is thick with deadly tension as he stares down Jon Eric and Finnegan.
“I’ll ask again,” he growls, the embodiment of menace, “what are you two doing playing with my toy?”
I’m so relieved he’s stopped them, I don’t even care that he’s referring to me like I’m his property. In this moment, all I want to do is run to him and hide behind his broad back. He’s an asshole, but I know he’ll keep me safe.
He wants to be the one to break me, after all.
I can tell Jon Eric and Finnegan are nervous by the stiffness of their shoulders, but when John Eric speaks, his tone is surprisingly casual.
“Hey man, we’re just having a bit of fun.”
Saint takes a menacing step forward. Raising his hand, he crooks a finger.
“Come here, Mallory.”
I don’t hesitate to obey, which speaks to exactly how terrified I am right now. Shoving past the psychopaths, I hurry to Saint and slip behind his back. The stare-down between all three of them continues for several moments more, but Jon Eric finally sniffs and shakes his head.
“Shit. No bitch is worth this. Come on, Finn.”
The two make their way down the aisle toward us, but Saint doesn’t move, forcing them to squeeze around him. I grab onto the back of Saint’s soft t-shirt and bury my face against his back as they