Page 40 of Through Any Fire (Any x #1)

A s if on cue, Alice moans, dragging my attention to her. Peter grips my chin firmly, refusing to let me look toward my friend. His fingers tighten, surely going to bruise, as he dips his face toward mine. Rancid breath washes over me, and I suppress the gag that threatens.

“Or will you let her take your place? A cold pussy has never stopped me before.” His implication sickens me, and my skin flushes with fear.

“But she’ll never know. She’ll be dead. So, which is it going to be?

You”—his finger trails over the curve of my jaw, twisting my face painfully toward Alice—“or her?” He whispers the words in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

Another tear slips over my cheek. I squeeze my eyes shut.

Peter laughs, a rumbling that quickly turns into a cough. He lets go of me, grabbing his chest. It drags me out of my trance, and my sights zero in on him.

I grab his arm, twist it around his back, and kick behind his knee, forcing him to the floor.

But he takes me with him, yanking me by my arm and throwing a fist. The blow lands on my side, the pain instantaneous.

But I ignore it, launching a blow at his face.

He blocks it and counters. With a twist, he’s suddenly on top of me, and his hands fly to my neck. He squeezes and laughs.

“Oh, little bird.” He licks his lips and grinds his cock into my belly. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that.”

My body flails, hands pulling at the squeeze on my neck.

“Don’t you know I like it when they fight?”

My mind is screaming. Fight. Hit back. Do something.

But for three heartbeats, it’s all I can do to stay above water in my mind and pull at his grip.

Peter must think I’m succumbing to his touch—he smiles and tugs his cock out of his jeans.

He strokes himself with one hand as the other pins my wrists above my head.

Alice groans, and my head lolls over to her.

Even from the ground, I can see the tears in her eyes. I mouth, I’m sorry.

She blinks, awareness returning to her with each second. Looking from her body to mine, she jerks in her restraints, hands reaching for me even from where they’re tied.

Fight , she mouths, just as Peter slides my dress over my hips. Fight , she says, face red from strain.

It’s like a douse of ice-cold water, and I snap back into my body.

With strength I’ve never known, I slam my head forward, knocking Peter’s skull with a force that ricochets through both of us.

My head throbs, and a warm trickle slides down my temple.

Peter shouts and lets go. Sharp ringing echoes in my ears, but I pay it no mind, using every moment he gives me.

He raises a hand to his forehead, then pulls bloodied fingers away, swearing.

I don’t wait. With a pounce, I fall into muscle memory.

My blows rain down, not stopping until he’s groaning on the floor.

When I’m satisfied he’s down, I rush to Alice and start working on her ties.

My fingers fumble with the rope, but even as they burn, I work the knots loose until one arm is free.

“Loren,” she moans, head flopping back against the wall. Her lashes are wet with fresh tears, and nausea burns in the back of my throat. I move onto her other arm.

“Loren!” Her voice is alarmed, and I spin around.

Peter stands, a hand on his temple as he stumbles toward the bed.

“Fuckin’ bitch.” He spits, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. He swipes forward, and I duck out of the way, but he grabs me by the neck, hands squeezing tight. Black spots dot my vision as my hands fly to my neck. He tightens his hold, a maniacal smile splitting his face in two.

I throw another punch, and his hold finally breaks.

We go blow for blow, and a disturbing realization occurs to me.

Peter might look lanky, but he’s holding his own.

As we circle each other, he licks his lips, and I notice for the first time that his pupils are blown.

Drugs, then. Whatever he took—or has been taking—is clearly giving him a leg up.

I’ve taken down Jude a few times over the years, so incapacitating Peter shouldn’t be a problem.

But when I spar with Jude, there’s always a limit.

Alice groans again, and I realize if I want to survive, I can’t have any limits.

Peter swings, and I dodge, but the two queen beds make it difficult to move around.

Blood trickles down my temple, likely from the headbutt.

I ignore the tickling sensation. My muscles are loose, adrenaline rushing through me and keeping me on my feet despite the blow to the ribs earlier.

I throw another punch, but it doesn’t do nearly enough damage.

Whatever he’s taken has clearly affected his pain tolerance.

He lashes out, trying to catch me, but his fingers slip as I yank myself away.

A growls splits from his chest and he spits on the floor.

“I’ll be easier on ya if you stop now. Another second, and I’ll rip your holes apart, stuffing anything I can find inside ya.”

I let his threat wash over me, focusing on the fight. He lurches for my neck. I have to end it.

He’s breaths away when I reach the bedside table. Without another thought, I rip the lamp from it and swing it over my head. A crack rings out. Peter’s hold immediately loosens as he collapses onto the floor, a river of blood rapidly staining the aged carpet.

I blink, waiting with a breath stuck in my throat for him to get up again.

But after a few moments, he doesn’t. I skirt around his body, doing my best not to look at the pool of blood spilling onto the floor, and rush to untie Alice’s other hand.

Tears roll down her face as she gains more awareness.

“Loren.” This time when she says my name, it’s filled with relief.

My arms slide around her for a quick hug before I pull her to her feet.

She sways, and I slide my arm around her waist to lead her toward the door.

When we reach the exit, I take one final look at the man bleeding out on the carpet.

I’m glad he’s dead—or rather, that he will be soon.

I let the door swing shut behind us without an ounce of guilt.

It takes a few minutes to get Alice down the two flights of stairs, and by the time we reach the car, there’s a fresh layer of sweat over both of us. I help her into the passenger seat of the Corvette and gently lay the seat back as far as it will go. She immediately passes out.

“Alice? ”

She doesn’t respond. I try again, gently shaking her shoulder. “Alice. Wake up, honey.”

Shit, she needs to go to the hospital. My head throbs, and my throat is scratchy, but I can’t think about my injuries right now.

The soft latching of the car door is like a gunshot in the quiet night, and I fight the flinch, rounding the front of the car to slide into the driver’s seat.

My hands tremble as they reach for the seatbelt.

I suck in a deep breath. Fuck, that really just happened.

Squeezing the steering wheel, I put the car into drive and get the fuck out of the parking lot.

The hospital is another ten minutes away from the Keane residence. As the drive passes, the fine mist from earlier has turned into a steady pour. Usually, I love the rain, but tonight…tonight, all it does is make my stomach clench as I try to focus on the road. To get Alice to the hospital safely.

I take stock of my injuries. While my neck slightly hurts, I don’t think there’s any real damage.

My body’s a little sore from being thrown around, but nothing I won’t survive.

The memory of Peter’s cock grinding into my belly floods my mouth with acid.

I look over to Alice’s sleeping body. It might not have happened to me, but I was fairly certain it happened to her.

He didn’t suffer enough.

Alice groans, and I turn my focus back to the drive, pressing harder on the gas pedal. I’m so focused that I don’t notice another car pulling up beside me, the window rolling down, and the glint of a barrel shining against the moonlight.