Page 6 of The Immortal’s One (Bound to the Immortals #1)

The man stands still, his dark clothes blending with the night.

I grip the keys so hard they bite into my palm. My heart pounds, loud enough that I struggle to hear the vibrant crowd of partygoers in the distance.

I edge backward, keeping my eyes locked on him. A shiver climbs my spine when his head tilts ever so slightly, like a predator sizing up its prey.

Then I hear it—more footsteps behind me.

Please, please, please let it be Kayla and Josh.

I glance back. A whimper claws out of my throat.

It's the three men. They’ve spread out around the parking lot, using their bodies as barricades to prevent my escape. Every muscle in my body is tight, and every brain cell in my head refuses to think. I don’t know what to do.

“What do you want?” I sound far braver than I feel. I’m still holding onto the hope that these men don’t want to engage with a defiant target. “Get away from my car! ”

The massive man doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step in my direction.

“Stop!” I yell, hoping someone on the nearby street will hear me. “Don’t come any closer!”

A cold smile crawls over his face.

The keys slip in my sweaty palms. With all my might, I heave them at the man's face.

Then, I run like hell.

Take the car. I don't care.

My heart pulses quicker than my desperate footsteps. I'm a fast runner, light on my feet, but I stumble as the gravel shifts beneath my boots, sharp edges slowing my pace.

My legs burn. I weave out of parked cars, zig-zagging through the parking lot.

Have I lost them?

I'm near the street. I round the bed of a large white truck, tasting escape. The reek of alcohol and cigarettes hits my nose before I see him.

Instead of freedom, I've run right into his trap.

"Gotcha."

I try to scream, but a grimy hand slams over my mouth. A scrawny man forces me to turn around and then wraps his other hand tight against my chest.

“I’ve got her,” he calls out.

I thrash and kick. His hold only grows tighter.

“Nice job, Jynx.” Three other men appear. The massive one is the one who speaks. “Now, let’s bounce before someone sees us.”

Bad breath jerks me backward. The men in front follow, blocking me from sight should anyone walk by as I’m dragged between cars.

Kayla and Josh !

Where are they?

No one is going to know what happened to me.

I drag my heels and attempt to drop my weight to buy more time. The man lifts me easily. The hand covering my mouth squeezes my cheeks, pressing my teeth into the soft tissue.

“Fight me again, and I’ll knock you out.” The violent undertone in his growl tells me he means it.

I open my mouth wide and clamp my teeth around the fleshy part of my captor’s hand. I bite down. Hard.

Gasoline and dirt fill my nostrils and coat my tongue. I gag but ignore the urge to spit.

The man howls and tries to pull away.

I bite down harder and grind my teeth. The metallic taste of blood floods my senses.

The grip around my chest loosens slightly. “What the fuck!”

“What’s going on?” a different man shouts.

I keep my jaw muscles clenched in the strongest bite of my life.

“She’s biting me!” My captor screams. He releases my chest completely and shoves me in the back. “Bitch!”

I’m forced to release his palm. I stumble forward, then dig my heels into the gravel to make my escape.

I’m snatched from behind before I take a step.

“You bitch,” my original captor growls in my ears, yanking me back into his chest. “You’re going to pay for—AH!”

A nasty crunch cuts off his insult as the back of my skull crashes into the man’s nose. The impact isn’t great for my already injured head, but adrenaline dulls the worst of the pain. Fight or flight has kicked in. They won’t let me flee, so my next choice is to fight.

I should thank Dad for enrolling me in self-defense classes when I was sixteen…

Dad!

He doesn’t know I’m in Portland. I doubt he even saw me leave the house.

He’s been so preoccupied with his latest manuscript, desperate to get as much work done before he begins treatment next week. I should have told him where I was going. He’ll be destroyed if something happens to me.

Nothing is going to happen to you!

I listen to my encouraging inner voice, pick up my right leg, and kick back. My heel makes contact with my captor’s shin.

He grunts and scoots his injured leg back. He widens his stance just like I hoped for.

It takes a flexible twist of my torso, but I turn and drive my knee right up into the man’s groin.

He bends over with a wheezed curse, releasing me to clutch his family jewels.

I crash onto my hip, the jagged gravel biting into my skin. The sharp sting shoots through me. My hands scrape the ground, tearing through the rough stones, but I push through, forcing myself to my feet.

I spin wildly, my heart racing, trying to get a sense of my surroundings. The street. I need to get to the street. It’s four rows of cars away.

I sprint, muscles aching. Heavy footsteps pound the ground in pursuit.

“Stop her!” the massive man growls, his voice right on my heels. "It'll be our heads if she gets away! "

I push harder, ignoring the panic rising. My lungs burn.

"HELP!" I scream into the cold, empty night, hoping someone—anyone—will hear.

My ankle gives way, but I slam my hands onto the hoods of passing cars to keep my balance, the metal cold under my fingertips. My body is screaming, but I force every last ounce of energy into my legs, urging them to move faster, to carry me just a few more feet.

"SOMEONE, PLEASE HELP ME!" My voice cracks, desperation thickening the air around me.

The sounds of the city blur together. Music from nearby bars and laughter spills from the clubs, but no one is close enough to hear. No one is listening.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, one of the men cuts through the cars. He’s coming at me from the right.

I pivot, my feet slamming into the pavement as I veer off-course. I dive between two SUVs, my body low, heart hammering, praying the darkness will be enough to hide me.

“Dammit! I don’t see her.”

The street is close.

Hope springs in my chest.

I can make it. I know I can.

I'm ten feet away from the sidewalk.

Ten feet from finding someone who can help me when thick, calloused hands wrap around my ankle and pull me to the ground.

“No!”