Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 133182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 666(@200wpm)___ 533(@250wpm)___ 444(@300wpm)
And I don’t know if it’s because I was drugged or if I’ve simply been through too much, but the thought of complying doesn’t even cross my mind.
My first and strongest instinct is to fight back.
“I’ve been assured she’s a virgin,” the driver says casually, like he’s discussing a piece of furniture he’s considering buying, as I twist, scream, and struggle against the other man.
“It’s always good to be sure,” the man grabbing my hips grunts as he ignores my slaps and pulls me closer.
Giving up on trying to slap him off me, I resort to extending my arms, locking them, and pushing against his chest.
But with nowhere to go and very little strength left, it feels like only seconds pass before the tug of war ends.
My arms give out on me, and with another grunt, my attacker drags me onto his lap.
With a touch of concern, the driver warns, “Do be gentle…”
“I’m always gentle,” the man fighting me laughs as I try once again to twist and squirm my way out of his grip.
Somehow, I manage to turn myself sideways, only to have him wrap a meaty arm around me and use it to crush my back against his chest.
I huff against the gag as his arm presses across my breasts like an iron bar.
“Now,” he pants. “Let’s see if those Russians were being honest…”
His nails scratch my thighs as he shoves his hand between them.
Screaming, I throw my weight forward, trying to break his hold, but he only budges a little before tightening up again.
Arms trapped at my sides, I try to press my knees together, but with his hand already between my legs, it’s pointless.
I can’t stop him.
I can’t stop his fingers from jabbing at my skin.
I can’t stop his hand from reaching my sex.
Once again, I’m completely, utterly, pathetically, powerless.
As his fingers cup around me, I scream again.
His hot breath hits my ear, his pants quickening while his fingers probe at me, seeking entrance.
Completely mindless in my desperation to be free, I arch my head away before I slam it into his.
“Fuck!” he roars as our skulls crack together.
“What’s wrong?” the driver shouts, alarmed.
Not satisfied with the first hit, I arch my neck and crack my head against his again.
“You fucking bitch!” he bellows then shoves me away. “You’re going to fucking pay for that!”
Ears ringing, head throbbing, I hit the back of the seat in front of me then half-slide, half-tumble to the floor.
“What is going on?!” the driver demands.
“The fucking—"
Suddenly the car swerves sharply to the right and the driver shouts, “Shit!”
Stuck on my side, I try to get my hands beneath me as the motion of the swerve pushes my feet into the door.
“What the fuck?!” the man I headbutted yells.
There’s a string of loud pops and I’m rocked to my stomach as the back of the car drops.
“We’re under attack!” the driver answers and the car screeches to a sudden stop.
Sounding more insulted than afraid, the man in the back with me roars, “By who?!”
Voice frantic, the driver cries, “I don’t—”
Glass shatters and something warm and wet rains down on me, splattering against my legs.
The man above me curses and fumbles around before he shouts, “Fuck you!”
More glass shatters, falling down on me.
Then it’s quiet.
Too quiet.
Heart hammering against my ribs, I peek up to see the man that was molesting me mere seconds ago slumped to the side with blood pouring from what’s left of his head.
Dead.
Before I can fully process what the hell just happened, I hear footsteps crunching against glass then the unmistakable sound of someone trying to open the door.
“The two targets are down,” a man mutters. “Searching for the girl.”
Terror unlike any other terror I’ve felt so far floods through me.
Am I next?
The footsteps fade away and I force myself to get moving. Digging my fingers into the carpet, I crawl my way up to the other door.
Afraid to make a sound, I hold my breath and pray as I reach for the handle.
Please open. Please open.
The interior light flashes on and all the doors click, unlocking, just as my fingers wrap around the handle.
Biting back a sob, I yank on the handle and crawl forward to push the door open.
At first the door opens slowly, then it reaches a point where it swings away from me.
Losing my balance, my palms hit grass, and before I have a chance to stop myself, the rest of my body follows.
A little dazed, it takes me a few seconds to get my bearings and scramble to my feet.
“Hey!” someone calls out.
Instinctually I glance back.
Over the top of the car, I see the head of a man wearing a backwards black baseball cap.
The man who killed the other men.
The man who might kill me.
Without thinking twice about it, I take off, running like my life depends on it.