The ground slammed into my feet so hard I almost screamed. Bare skin met gravel, shards biting deep into my soles. Fuck I realized I wasn't putting any shoes or slippers on my foot. The jolt rattled up my spine, but I forced myself to move.
I couldn't stop. I wouldn't stop.
The night swallowed me whole as I bolted down the alley beside my building. My breath tore through my lungs, echoing against the walls. Every shadow felt alive, every flicker of movement a hand reaching for me.
Then I saw them.
Cars. Black, sleek, lined up along the curb with engines humming low. Men in dark suits leaned against them like wolves waiting for a signal. The air stank of power and control, and my stomach dropped.
Alex.
It had to be him.
"No, no, no," I whispered, chest heaving and my heart slamming.
I spun on my heel and darted the other way, diving deeper into the maze of alleys, darkness swallowing me whole. My pulse thundered in my ears.
I didn't make it too far.
The sound of footsteps echoed behind me heavy, fast, gaining ground. My blood iced over. I pushed harder, faster, my body screaming in protest. Pain slashed through my right foot, sharp and burning. I stumbled, crying out. Something had pierced me glass or metal, I couldn't tell.
I staggered, but terror pushed me forward, every step pure agony.
Until hands came out of nowhere.
Strong and unyielding, yanking me back and slamming me into the cold wall. The impact rattled my bones, the knife in mu hand scraping against the brick as I whipped it up in blind desperation.
"Let me fucking go!" I screamed, pounding against a broad chest.
Adrenaline roared through me. I didn't think. I just drove the blade forward.
The sound that tore from the man's throat wasn't the one I expected. A deep, guttural groan, thick with pain.
His grip tightened. His hand shot out, knocking the knife from my grip, sending it clattering across the ground. My wrists were caught in one fist, shoved high up over my head. I kicked my leg up wanting to hit him in his in his nuts, twisting and desperate but his thigh wedged between mine, blocking me, pinning me in place. Heat burned where our bodies clashed.
A whimper escaped from me before I could catch it.
And then, through the darkness, came his voice.
"Careful, Isabella." His tone was low, strained, but unmistakable. "You nearly killed me."
My breath caught.
The shadows shifted enough for me to see his face. My eyes adjusting to the darkness. Alexander Cross. His blue eyes burned, sharp even as his jaw clenched with pain.
I looked down. Blood darkened the expensive fabric of his shirt where I had stabbed him.
"Oh my God…" My voice cracked. "I….I didn't know….. it was you…. I'm sorry."
"You think that somehow make a difference?" he ground out, his face inches from mine. His breath was hot against my skin, his hold unrelenting. "Do you have any idea what could have happened if it wasn't me chasing you?"
"I wasn't thinking I was just…." My voice shook. "I was trying to get away. You had me kidnapped before. What the hell was I supposed to do?"
He exhaled through his nose, sharp and angry, his body still pressing me hard against the wall. "You were supposed to stay alive. Not jump out of windows barefoot and bleed yourself half to death."
The sting of his words lanced through my chest. I wanted to scream back, to shove him off, but guilt twisted in my stomach. My eyes flicked again to the blood spreading across his shirt. My doing.
His free hand dropped, gripping my chin, forcing my gaze up to meet his. "Next time you raise a knife to me, Isabella…" He leaned closer, his voice dropping, dangerous. "You better make sure you finish the job."
The weight of his words hung heavy in the alley, my breath shallow against his.
Then, without warning, he released my hands that were being held up above my head, then moved his body away from mine and started pulling me towards him and out of the ally, I winced when I put pressure on my injured leg. He turned when he heard me wince then he scooped me up.
I gasped, squirming. "Put me down! You're bleeding! You….."
"Shut up," he bit out, adjusting me against his chest as if I weighed nothing. His arms were iron, his body heat wrapping around me despite the wet warmth of blood soaking into my clothes. "You weigh less than air. Stop fighting."
"But you're hurt—"
"You think I care?" he snapped, voice sharp but low, almost guttural. "You think I'm going to let you run yourself into the ground like a damn fool? You're mine, Isabella. Mine. And I decide what happens to you."
My protests faltered. I could feel the steady thrum of his heart beneath my hand, could smell the sharp tang of blood and cologne. Guilt burned hotter than fear. He was bleeding because of me.
For once, I didn't fight. I couldn't.
The night air bit at my skin as he carried me out of the alley. His men stood by the cars, faces slack with shock as they watched their boss, bleeding, furious and carrying me like some doll.
Alexander ignored them all. He only looked down at me, jaw tight, eyes blazing with something that looked like hate.
And then he slid me into the car sit, shutting the world out behind him.