Unsuitable(102)

“Get the fuck off me, you fucking cunt!”

He hits me with the butt of his gun. Pain explodes in my eye, and I lose my hold on him as I stumble back, clutching my eye.

“You’re gonna fucking get it now, you little bitch.”

He punches me in the face. I fall backward, hitting the floor.

He’s on top of me, and I’m fighting him with everything I have.

But he’s too strong.

He grabs one of my flailing arms, forcing it to the floor and pinning it there. I see the bottle of champagne lying on the floor beside me, only inches away.

If I could just grab it…

He presses the gun to my forehead. “What did I fucking tell you?” he snarls. “I told you to behave. But you just don’t fucking listen, do you? Do you want me to put a bullet in your girlfriend’s head right now? Or maybe I should just put a bullet in yours.”

He pushes the gun harder against my head, and I know there’ll be a bruise there—if I live through this, that is.

“Because you are becoming more trouble than you’re worth. And, honestly, Daisy, I have no problem with fucking your still-warm corpse.”

A laugh bubbles up out of me, and it sounds maniacal. I feel maniacal.

I stare up at him. “Do your worst, Doyle. I got a feel of your tiny cock, and I’d be surprised if I’d even be able to feel it anyway.”

Anger tightens his features. The gun pulls away from my forehead, and then he punches me in the face.

Holy fuck.

The pain is excruciating.

Choking on the blood filling my mouth, I start laughing again. The sound is like a gurgle. I open one eye, staring up at him. “Jesus, Doyle, I can hit harder than you. Hits like a girl and has a tiny cock. That’s why you have to rape women, isn’t it? To make you feel like more than you are.”

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking bitch!” he yells, face bright red, as his hand rears back to hit me again.

That’s when I make a grab for the champagne bottle. I get ahold of it, but he catches my hand, trying to wrestle it from my grip.

“Get off me!” I scream, fighting with everything I have.

“I’d do as she says, if I were you.”

Kas.

He’s here. Thank you, God.

Twisting my head back, my eyes connect with his.

He’s standing in the doorway. Pure rage covers his face, contorting his beautiful features. His black eyes look like they’re on fire. Every single inch of him screams danger.

He’s never looked more beautiful to me than he does now. And I’ve never felt relief like I do now.

Damien yanks the champagne bottle from my hand and tosses it to the floor behind him. Eyes on Kas, he sits on my stomach, pinning me to the floor. “Well, if this isn’t just fucking peachy. The boyfriend’s here. Come on in, Kas. Join the party.” He waves his gun in Kas’s direction. “You know the rules. You’ve been to one of my parties before. You get to sit and watch while I fuck your girlfriend. And, when I’m done with her, I get to finish you off, like I should’ve done seven years ago.”

An animalistic sound tears from Kas.

And then everything goes crazy.

Kas lunges the short distance across the room, toward Damien. He moves so fast that Damien doesn’t even get a chance to lift his gun to point it at Kas.

Kas’s body connects with Damien’s with a loud thud. The gun flies from Damien’s hand. They both hit the floor.

Now free, I don’t waste a second. I scramble up to my knees, wildly scanning the floor for the gun, while Kas fights Damien, barely a foot away from me.

My eyes lock on the gun. It’s on the floor, by the foot of the armchair.

I dive for it. Hand curling around the barrel, I pick it up. Swinging around to face them, I push up to my knees, and in my trembling hand, I hold the gun properly. I raise it and point the gun at the men fighting on the floor.

I curl my finger around the trigger. “Kas,” I rasp out, my voice hoarse.

He doesn’t hear me. He’s too busy punching Damien in the face.

“Kas! Move!” I scream.

Kas’s head jerks back and around, eyes swinging to mine.

It’s a mistake on my part because Damien takes full advantage of his distraction and punches Kas in the side of his head, his fist connecting with Kas’s temple.

Kas slumps to the floor.

“No!” I cry out.

Damien’s eyes come to me. And that’s when he sees I have the gun in my hand.

Slowly, Damien gets to his feet. “And what do you think you’re going to do with that, little girl?” he mocks.

My heart is pounding. Panic and fear and adrenaline are burning through me like jet fuel, making my hands shake.

Damien tips his head to the side, his eyes appraising me.