Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84294 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Cassie - I’m running late. Don’t let that game start without me. Love you.
Jax - And deprive you of that tingly feeling you get when you watch me skate? Wouldn’t dream of it. Drive safe.
Another ten minutes later, it finally starts to move, and I gun it. I get to the ice rink with a few minutes to spare, and without a single parking space available, I pull into the athletes’ lot and park across the back of Jax’s truck. It’s not like he’ll be leaving before I do.
I quickly check the time as I put my Beetle in park and turn off the ignition. Relief washes through me. If I run, I might just make it. I notice a few other people also rushing to make the start of the game, and I pull out my phone once again as I rush forward.
Cassie - Just running in now. Kick ass tonight.
Jax doesn’t reply, but I don’t expect him to. Coach Harris is probably giving the players their pep talk before sending them out on the ice.
I slip my phone into my pocket and push forward, trying not to physically run to avoid looking like a desperate fool, but honestly, I’m walking pretty damn fast. The doors to the stadium come into view, and I grin knowing exactly where my seat is, unlike the idiots around me who are all going to have to search through the crowd for their spots.
As I finally reach the building, something grips me from behind and yanks me back, dragging me around the side of the stadium. I let out a squeal as I’m pulled completely off balance, and I have to scramble to try to catch my footing. A dark shadow crosses my vision, but I ignore it, desperately trying to save myself from falling flat on my face.
My ass hits the ground, and I know without a doubt that there’s going to be a bruise. I hardly have a moment to dwell on it before the dark shadow appears directly in front of me, a sick, twisted grin on the fucker’s face.
My eyes widen, recognizing the asshole from Micky’s, and I try to scream. I desperately look around for a shred of help, but in the rush to get inside, it’s left the parking lot a fucking ghost town. The asshole slaps his hand over my mouth, and I flinch at the pain. Or maybe it’s the feel of his skin on mine once again.
Fear blasts through my chest as I try to crawl away, calling for help again, but it’s useless. He’s too strong. His eyes sparkle, enjoying my fear, and I know without a doubt that I have to get out of here.
“I’ve been waiting for you,” he tells me as his eyes flash with something dark, and I realize just how much trouble I’m in. He grabs me by my hair and yanks me up, and my feet scramble beneath me, trying to catch myself to relieve some of the pain. My hands fly to my hair as I try my hardest to claw his hand away.
My heart beats rapidly in my chest, and I promptly recognise the signs of my freak out. My gaze flicks left to right, desperately searching for a way out of this. What the hell am I going to do? How am I going to get out of here?
Kicking my legs out, I attempt to hit him, but he jumps back out of the way. “Mmm, feisty,” he mutters, getting a better hold on me and starting to drag me away.
I continue to claw at his hand in my hair, trying to free myself. I know I must be cutting him, as I feel the wetness beneath my fingers, but all it does is spur him on. He adjusts his hold in my hair and uses the hand over my mouth to slap me, hard. I whimper in pain as the hand returns to my mouth. “You’re going to regret that,” he tells me, and using his hold on my hair, he leads me back toward the parking lot.
No. No, no, no, no. This can’t be happening.
I try everything I can to get free. I kick my legs out and drop all my body weight to the point he has to drag me, but nothing works. I just need something to use as a weapon—or at least something to cut my hair from my skull to be freed.
We reach a dark car and I continue fighting, trying my hardest to get free from the bastard. Fear of being shoved into his car consumes me. I can’t allow that to happen. I don’t know shit about this guy, where he plans on taking me . . . what he will do to me. The thought alone is terrifying and has me begging for freedom.