Page 115 of The Devoted Game

Reaching down, she pulled at her door, just to see if anything had changed. Wouldn’t budge.

Dammit.

A metal-against-metal grind brushed her senses. Her heart launched into her throat.

A door was opening.

Close by.

Very close.

Her gaze settled on the wall between her andhim.

Hisdoor.

She put one foot behind the other and started backing up.

Footsteps.

At her door.

Fear exploded in her veins.

Metal rattled against metal.

The lock?

Herlock.

The grinding sound told her brain her door was moving upward before the visual image registered.

Her.

Door.

Opened.

The letters written in black across his forehead stole her attention for one second.

Nameless.

Terror ignited in her veins.

“That’s why he picked you,” he said in that soft whisper she remembered too well. “The lips. Such beautiful lips.”

He charged her.

She sidestepped at the absolute last second.

His shoulder slammed into hers, setting him off balance.

She rammed the heel of her hand into his chin at the exact instant that she launched her knee into his balls.

Too late.

His fingers gripped her throat.

They hit the floor. She kicked. Punched at his throat. Stabbed at his eyes. He howled in agony from her blows, and his fingers tightened with the pulse of the pain cutting off her airway.