Without thinking, I wrench sideways against his grip, my elbow connecting with his ribs, and for a split second, his arm loosens and I’m moving, stumbling forward, reaching for the table.
My fingers close around the phone. I thumb the screen to life, swipe to the security app, and tap the camera icon, one frantic press to switch the recording on, hoping it notifies the guys to look at the live footage.
Louis’s hand smashes across my wrist, and I scream from the sharpness shooting up my arm as the phone spins out of my grip and cracks against the far wall.
Did it activate? One tap. Was it enough?
He whips me around and shoves me backward. My hip catches the edge of the hallway table, and pain explodes through my side. I’m stumbling, grabbing for the wall, a cry in my throat, and he’s on me. A gag is pushed against my mouth, and he’s tying it behind my head so fast that I barely have time to respond. I drive my hands against him, but he’s not budging.
He slaps both of his hands into my shoulders, pinning me against the plaster with his whole body, his face inches from mine, his breath coming in fast, ragged bursts that smell of whiskey and fury.
“Three fucking Alphas.” His fingers dig into my shoulders so hard I feel the bones shift. “You let them fuck you too?”
Tears are pouring down my face, terror choking my insides.
He yanks me off the wall and throws me toward the living room. I trip over the rug and hit the floor on my hands and knees, the impact jarring through my wrists and up my arms. Just as I push myself up and reach for my gag, his hand fists the back of my shirt and yanks me upright, and he spins me to face him.
But I drive my knee up between his thighs, except he shifts out of the way and chuckles. “You bitch.”
I rip from his grasp and run, but he charges after me, both of us crashing into the wall.
“I built you.” He’s in my face again, gripping my throat. “Every time you froze up and couldn’t function in front of a camera when interviewed, who coached you through it? Who made you presentable? Who spent hours photographing your grandmother’s fucking chowder?”
His fist connects with the wall beside my head. The plaster cracks, and the sound is a gunshot in the silence. I flinch so hard my entire body convulses, and a whimper tears from my mouth.
“You think those men want you? They want the publicity, Claire. They want the views. The second the heat fades and thefollowers plateau, they’ll throw you away. That’s what Alphas do. We consume. We discard.”
I’m shaking, mouthing,You’re fucking wrong,into the gag, my words coming out as angry murmurs.
His hand squeezes my throat,his thumb against my windpipe, feeling me swallow. “But I’m different.” His voice drops this time. “I never discarded you, Claire. I left because you were too much for me and I couldn’t handle it. But I’m back now, ready. And I’m going to finally give you what you wanted. My permanent mark, bonding you to me.”
His face dips toward my neck. My blood turns to ice as his mouth opens, breath on the sensitive skin below my ear. I thrash against him, pressing my palms against his chest to push him away, but nothing works. His teeth graze my neck.
I’m trembling terribly.
He’s going to force-mark me, and my body will respond to his mark for the rest of my life regardless of what my heart or my brain wants.
I’m screaming behind the gag in my mouth, and my hands are now shoving harder at his chest, my nails raking down his face. He rears back, cursing, three red lines appearing across his cheek.
“You fucking bitch?—”
He grabs both my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head against the wall, then stands on my feet. The weight is agony. Instantly, his mouth descends toward my neck again, and I’m thrashing, bucking to knock him off me. His free hand grips my jaw and forces my head sideways, exposing my throat.
His breath hot on my pulse point makes my skin crawl. His teeth scrape skin, and this is the moment I lose myself. I’m screaming without sound as his teeth press down hard, painfully.
A loud snap cracks somewhere inside the house, but it could be my imagination, drowned beneath the thunder of my heartbeat and the sound of my world falling apart.
I writhe against him with my body as his sharp teeth force down against my skin.
But in a flash, he’s ripped away from me.
I stumble sideways, barely catching myself. It’s dark, and it takes me two stunned seconds to realize Louis has hit the floor, tangled with the single-seater couch he crashed into.
Three figures stand in the room with us. My Alphas, and I start crying harder because they came for me.
Jakob’s on Louis, hauling him upright by his collar, and his fist drives into Louis’s face with a crack that sprays blood across his face.
Brody and Corey are at my sides, collecting me in their arms, one of them removing the gag. I can barely stand, my knees weak, face wet with tears, and they hold me tightly. “We’ve got you,” Brody whispers. “Sorry we didn’t get here quicker.”