Page 80 of Dance of Devils

I roll the tension from my shoulders, feeling the angry, painful rumble of my stomach.

I should really eat something. I mean, story of my life, the last year and change. But I had to pay Diego the other day, and I’ve been tightening my belt ever since.

Maybe a bit too much.

From my cooler, I grab a Pop Tart, banana, and half of a turkey club sandwich that I’m ashamed to admit I snagged yesterday when Milena tossed it in the garbage can in the changing room. Then I sink onto Pearl’s trunk and dig in, groaning in relief when the food hits my empty stomach.

“I knew you were bullshitting me.”

I choke on the sandwich, jumping off the trunk and whirling at the sound of James’s voice. His eyes glint in the overhead glow of a single streetlight, his smile cold and cruel.

In the last year, when our paths have crossed, Imighthave mentioned that I wasn’t at my old apartment anymore because I was sharing a place with my friend Maya.

“I’m not sure what you mean?—”

I shudder when he steps toward me, my words failing as I slowly retreat.

“I don’t fucking like it when you lie to me, baby,” he hisses. “You know, I followed you to that chick Maya’s place once.” His lips curl dangerously. “You don’t fucking live there, do you.”

I try to smile as I force myself to face him. You can’t cower around James. It makes him angry when you cower.

“No, I definitelydolive?—”

All at once, the wind rushes from my lungs as pain explodes through my stomach. I cry out, groaning in pain as his fists slam into me, doubling me over. Clearly, smiling makes him angry, too.

“I fuckinghatewhen you lie to me, cunt,” he snarls.

Suddenly, he’s hauling me up by the hair and slamming me back against the side of Pearl.

“The. Thing. Is…” he grunts.

I whimper when his fist sinks into my stomach over and over before he yanks me upright. Nauseating pain curls inside me as naked fear wraps around my throat.

“Allwomen are fucking liars,” he hisses. “Andfucking sluts. They need a strong man and a firm hand to remind them of their fuckingplace.”

I gasp for air, shaking in pain and fear as he slams me against the car again.

“I think we’re overdue, B,” he snarls, an evil grin on his face. “I think you need to be reminded of your place.”

I choke as he looms closer, his rancid, sour breath washing over me. Panic and terror claw at me. My pulse skips, my skin crawling as James grabs my shoulders and starts to push down.

My head spins. The world blurs. I glance down in slow motion, seeing the small but still horrifying bulge in his jeans as he snickers under his breath.

“C’mon, baby. You fucking owe me for lying to me. Take it out and fucking suck it like a good little?—”

It’s a snap decision. Maybe it’s because I've been at rock bottom for a month now. Maybe it’s because I haven’t eaten all day and I’m fuckingstarving, and this asshole just interrupted my one meal.

Or maybe it’s because a certain Russian Bratva leader has been teaching me to face my fears.

Whatever the reason, when I decide to do it, there’s no hesitation.

James chokes out a pathetic, groaning whimper when my knee slams into his nuts. Once. Twice. Three times, sending him into a ball before I shove him away.

Then reality hits, and my face turns white when I consider what I've just done.

He’s going to fucking kill me.

With a cry, I whirl and yank open Pearl’s driver side door. I dive in and slam it shut, locking it just before James lurches to the window, pounding his fist against it. I scream, looking at him through the glass as his face contorts with rage.