Chapter 25 Fight It
Grace’s heart slammed against her ribs so hard it hurt. Her mind immediately went to the worst possibility.
Vance.
Had he sent people after her? She knew he was capable of it. Knew he had the money, the connections, and the complete lack of morality to do whatever he wanted.
She should leave. She should turn around and walk out the door right now, get as far away as possible.
But then she heard it.
There were voices, it was low and muffled, coming from upstairs. From her parents’ room.
“Check the drawers again.”
“I already checked. There’s nothing.”
“Then look harder. It has to be here.”
Grace’s blood ran cold.
Who were these people? What were they looking for?
Every instinct screamed at her to run, to get out while she still could. But her feet stayed rooted to the floor, her body refusing to move, frozen by fear and confusion in equal measure.
Then she heard footsteps. Coming down the stairs.
Grace’s eyes darted toward the front door. She could make it, she just had to move. Move, Grace. Move!
She spun around, reaching for the doorknob, but before her fingers could close around it, she heard a sound that made her freeze.
A soft tsk, disapproving and amused all at once.
Grace turned slowly, dread pooling in her stomach.
A figure appeared on the stairs. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in all black with a mask covering a good part of his face. Only his eyes were visible, they were cold, calculating and fixed on her with an intensity that made her skin crawl.
He didn’t say anything or move, he just watched her.
Then, without warning, he started down the remaining stairs, his movements casual, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world.
Grace bolted.
She ran for the door, her hands fumbling with the knob. Her fingers slipped once, twice, shaking too hard to grip properly. The panic made it hard to breathe.
“She’s here!” the man shouted, his voice sharp and clear.
Grace finally got the door open and lunged outside, but a hand grabbed the back of her shirt, yanking her backward with brutal force. She screamed, twisting in his grip, her nails raking across his arm with desperate fury.
He swore, it was a harsh sound. Then shoved her forward and she hit the floor hard. Her palms scraped against the wood, splinters digging into her skin. Pain shot through her wrists, sharp and immediate, but she didn’t stop.
She scrambled to her feet, but the man grabbed her again, pulling her down. This time she used her legs, lashing out blindly. Her foot connected with his knee, and she felt the impact shudder up her leg.
He cursed, his grip loosening just enough.
Grace scrambled up and lunged for the door again, but two more men appeared in the doorway, blocking her path completely.
She skidded to a halt, her chest heaving, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it in her throat. They were both masked, both dressed the same. One of them tilted his head, studying her like she was some kind of interesting specimen.
“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said, his voice calm and unbothered.
Grace took a step back, her mind racing. “What do you want?”
“You.”
Her stomach lurched. “Did Vance send you? Because I refused him, is that it?”
The man tilted his head further, like a bird examining something curious, “What the fuck is a Vance?”
Grace’s breath caught. What? Was he joking? And if Vance didn’t send them, then who did?
The man behind her was closing in. She could hear his footsteps, like a predator stalking prey.
She was trapped.
Grace’s hands curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms hard enough to hurt. She thought of Dylan. Of the way his body had slammed into the bathroom wall without her touching him. Of the way his friend had flown backward, crashing into the sinks, the way the mirrors had cracked and shattered because she had willed it to happen.
She’d done that.
She didn’t know how. Didn’t understand it, but, she’d done it.
And she needed it to happen again.
Please, she thought desperately. Please work. Please, please, please—
One of the men in front of her lunged.
Grace threw her hands up, bracing for impact, willing with everything she had for something to happen.
Nothing.
He grabbed her arm, his grip like iron, and slammed her against the wall. Her head cracked against the plaster, and white spots burst across her vision. Pain exploded through her skull, radiating down her neck.
“No!” Grace screamed, thrashing in his hold. “Let go of me!”
She kicked out wildly, her foot connecting with his shin. He grunted but didn’t let go. The one who’d been behind her moved in, reaching for her other arm.
Grace twisted violently, her elbow slamming into his ribs. He stumbled back, cursing.
“Hold her still,” the man by the doorway snapped, still watching like this was all some kind of entertainment.
Grace drove her heel down onto the first man’s foot with all her strength, and his grip loosened just enough. She wrenched herself free and ran.
She didn’t think. Didn’t plan. She just moved.
She hit the front door at full speed, throwing it open and bursting outside, she was sure the door had hit the masked man who stood by it.
The cold air hit her like a slap, shocking and immediate, but she didn’t slow down. She ran down the path, her feet pounding against the pavement, her lungs already burning.
Behind her, she heard the door slam open again.
“After her!”
Grace’s legs screamed in protest, her chest tight and aching, but she kept running. She could see Maddox’s house in the distance now. Just a few more houses. If she could just get there.
“Maddox!” she screamed, her voice hoarse and desperate. “Maddox!”
She kept screaming his name over and over, hoping, praying he would hear her. Praying that he was still stalking somewhere nearby.
Footsteps thundered behind her, getting closer.
She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw them, three of them, sprinting after her. The one who had answered her question about Vance was in front, and he was fast. Too fast.
Grace pushed harder, her breath coming in ragged, painful gasps. Her vision started to blur at the edges.
She was almost at Maddox’s house. Almost there. Just a little further—
Suddenly her feet left the ground.
Someone had tackled her from behind, body-slamming her with enough force to knock all the air from her lungs. Grace tried to brace herself for impact, but there was no time.
She hit the ground hard, the pavement scraping her arms and face. All the wind was knocked out of her, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only gasp uselessly as her lungs refused to work.
The man was on her immediately, rolling her over.
His hand shot out, fingers closing around her wrist.
Grace screamed, a raw, desperate sound, and yanked back with everything she had. But his grip was too strong. He pulled her toward him, and she stumbled, her knees buckling beneath her.
“Got you,” he said, his voice low and satisfied, almost pleased.
Grace clawed at his face, at the only parts visible, which was his eyes, the small strip of skin above the mask. Her nails drew blood underneath his right eye, three long scratches that welled up red immediately.
But he didn’t let go.
The other two were catching up, their footsteps echoing in the empty street. No one was coming outside. No lights were turning on. No one was going to help her.
She was out of options.
Grace opened her mouth to scream again, to call for Maddox one more time, but something hard slammed into the side of her head.
Pain exploded across her skull, white-hot and blinding. It felt like her head was splitting open, like something had cracked inside. Her vision blurred, the world tilting sideways. She felt her legs give out, felt herself falling.
The last thing she saw before everything went black was the moon, hanging pale and lovely in the darkening sky.
Had it always been that lovely? she thought distantly, the question floating through her fading consciousness.
Then nothing.
When Grace’s body went limp, the man caught her before she hit the ground. He adjusted his grip, slinging her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing, and turned back toward the others.
“Let’s go,” he said, his voice flat and businesslike. “Before someone sees.”
The second man nodded, pulling out his phone. “I’ll call it in. Tell them we have her.”
The third man glanced at Grace’s unconscious form, her head lolling against the first man’s back, her arms hanging limp. His expression was unreadable behind the mask.
Then they disappeared into the shadows, Grace’s body limp and unmoving between them.
And the street fell silent once more.