Chapter Sixteen

AJ

"Yeah, scream," he said as I sucked in a breath to do just that.

But there was no reason to scream.

No one would hear.

And it would give him satisfaction.

If there was one thing I couldn't, wouldn't, do, it was make him enjoy this more than I already knew he would.

"Don't worry," he said, yanking back harder, making me need to bite my lower lip to prevent myself from screaming, "I'll make you scream plenty before I'm done."

I didn't doubt he was capable of that.

Especially after evading him for so long, thwarting him at every turn.

Joss turned, walking both of us backward into the stockroom, then slamming me forward.

I think I was still in shock at that point, not flailing or fighting, but I was present of mind enough to throw out my hands, to prevent my face from cracking against the wall.

Joss's hand tightened on my ponytail, and yanked hard enough back for my skull to meet my shoulders, pain shooting up the back of my head from the strain.

"You thought you could hide from me forever?" he growled in my ear as his other hand slid around my throat, tightening.

I sucked in the biggest breath I could before the pressure cut off my air supply completely.

Panic swelled as my chest got tight, as my head felt like it was floating.

I had to focus to remind myself that he didn't want to kill me. Or, if he did, he certainly didn't want to kill me yet.

He wanted me to suffer.

This was a scare tactic.

Back a state or two, maybe it would have worked.

But things were different now.

I had more experience. And a hell of a lot more to live for.

Choosing my pain, I suddenly bent my knees, knowing the pain from my ponytail would intensify, but I would be able to breathe again.

My knees hit the ground with a crack that had pain ricocheting up my legs as I gasped for air, ignoring the way Joss pulled at my hair, just focusing on breathing.

I had no idea what I was doing. I'd never taken any of the self-defense classes I kept telling myself I would seek out each time I moved.

But it seemed like my survival instinct, at least, kicked in, making me reach back, grabbing the ponytail up higher than Joss's hand, preventing him from pulling the roots, where it would hurt the most, then whipping around on my knees, the movement dislodging his hand.

I tried to get one foot on the floor, so I could gain my feet. But the second I started to put my weight onto it, something landed hard between my shoulder blades—his foot, I suspected, though I couldn't see—and sent me flying forward, coming down hard on my left wrist, the pain making me let out a small whimper as I flipped myself over onto my back, knowing it was the only way I could even attempt to defend myself. Face to face.

As much as some part of me didn't want to look at him again, afraid that maybe seeing him would cow me the way he used to, make me useless to do anything but accept the abuse he wanted to force upon me.

I cradled my bad wrist to my chest as I pulled my legs in as well, ready to kick out, to defend myself by any means necessary.

"You've got more fight in you now," he said, coming closer. "I kind of like it," he said with a smile that had my stomach sloshing around.

He looked like himself, if maybe a little older, a bit rounder in the stomach, likely thanks to having to order in, instead of having someone to cook every meal for him.

His hair looked like it was receding a bit at his temples, making his forehead appear bigger, making his features much less symmetrical.

There was a wicked glint in his eyes.

Normally, that look would fill me with dread.

Now, though, it filled me with something else entirely.

Rage.

He approached me slowly, savoring this moment, his power. Likely drafting up fantasies about what he was about to do with me.

I knew him well enough to know that, after all this time, that it would be a fate worse than death.

But while he might be the same old Joss, I was not the same Amy Jane.

I wasn't Amy Jane at all.

Amy Jane was a sweet, teenaged girl with no experience, who was being led by her heart into hell.

I wasn't her anymore.

I was AJ.

The woman who survived all that, who used her hardships to become stronger, who didn't let it break her, who used it to slowly build a life she loved.

With a man she… yes, loved.

If there was ever a time when you could be honest about your feelings for a man, it was when you were facing your possible death.

I loved him.

Atlas.

For everything he was for me. Kind. Patient. Understanding. Generous.

And for everything he was. Adventurous. Brave. Exciting. Easy-going. Worldly. Connected with his family.

I loved him.

And I loved what we'd been creating together.

My heart ached at the idea of that being cut short.

Especially by Joss.

I waited as he got closer, then bent toward me, arms outstretched, ready to grab me, to pull me up. Maybe not all the way. Knowing him, he'd yank me up enough to strike a blow.

I timed it just right.

Then I kicked out with everything inside of me.

The impact landed in his lower stomach, and I got a sick sense of satisfaction at hearing the way his breath gasped out of him as he stumbled back.

I didn't waste any time enjoying my victory, though.

I rushed to get up on my feet, making my way across the hall into the bathing room, regretting my decision almost immediately because, like the break room, there was only one exit. And the room had a massive metal, industrial pet bathing station. Lots of hard lines and sharp edges to bash me against.

"You'll pay for that, you stupid bitch," Joss roared, close behind me. Too close.

My good hand shot out, grabbing the handle of a massive jug of dog shampoo.

Even half full, it was heavy enough to do some damage.

I had no choice, given the small space, but to back myself into a corner, wondering if I whacked him hard enough to disorient him, I could unlock, open, and climb out the window.

But, no.

No.

They were old windows. And the exterior glass panes would be pulled down. There was no way I could unlock and open the window, draw up the extra pane, and then climb out unless, by some miracle, Joss was unconscious.

"Do it," Joss hissed. "I dare you."

He would try to take it, I knew, if I swung too early, or if I didn't otherwise distract him.

"I'll just make you pay for it after," he said.

"You keep saying that," I said, finding my voice, surprised just how strong it sounded. Once I heard it, though, I wanted to keep talking. I wanted him to know he hadn't broken me. That he would never break me. "Yet you haven't laid a hand on me," I said, my gaze slipping to his stomach where he had to have at least a small bit of pain.

Suddenly, I cursed myself for not aiming a bit lower. Between his legs. Even if it didn't keep him down long, I figured that any attempts at rape would be thwarted by that kind of damage.

Well, there was still time, I assured myself.

I wasn't going to go down without one hell of a fight.

"I'm just getting started," he said, cocking his arm back, ready to strike.

I waited until the last second to duck, then swing out at the same time, the jug missing its mark of his face, and whacking off his collarbone.

Still, it had him staggering back enough to create an opening for me to rush around him.

I ducked under his arm and rushed forward, only to feel a blow land in my ribs, making my breath whoosh out of me, and sending a sharp pain up my side.

Joss was faster than I'd anticipated, rushing back to block the doorway, keeping me inside.

Adrenaline was coursing through my body, making me feel like I was buzzing, even as the pain throbbed in my side.

My gaze shot around the room, trying to rack my brain for what might be inside the cabinets.

Ear wipes. Nail clippers. Styptic powder. Waterless bath wipes. Brushes.

Scissors.

Scissors.

We kept scissors in the cabinet. For a situation like something getting stuck in a dog's hair. We never used them, for fear of what the owners might say, but they were there, nestled in the second drawer. Within reach if I just inched over two or three feet.

"Come on. Try to get past me," Joss invited, a sneer pulling at his lips.

I didn't try to make the move seem unassuming.

I lunged at the drawer, yanking it open, then grabbing the scissors, holding them in my fist, my arm aloft, ready to strike out at any part of him that came close to me.

I watched as his amusement turned to anger as he watched me, as he realized just how much fight I had left in me.

He wasn't a man who liked a challenge. He liked that I immediately gave in, that I didn't try to fight back or even defend myself.

Maybe, for a moment, he liked that he would have to overpower me. But there was not a single bone in this man's body that liked the idea that I could stab him if he got close.

He wanted a little cat and mouse.

Not realizing I'd grown some claws myself.

Sure, I wished I'd spent more time sharpening them, honing my self-defense skills. But, hey, if I didn't have the skills, I could use what was available to me.

I inched closer to Joss, arm lifted, keeping a close eye on him, not wanting him to be able to grab my arm, to wrench the scissors from me.

God only knew what he might do with them in his possession.

He'd never really used weapons on me. Maybe, occasionally, whacking me with his beer bottle or hitting me with his belt. But he didn't seem to go out of his way to find something to strike me with. He preferred his bare hands.

And he'd definitely never used anything sharp on me.

That didn't mean, however, that I didn't think he was capable if he was pissed enough.

And he sure seemed pissed now.

"You can stab me," he said, tone taunting. "But you're not getting past me."

Maybe not. But if this failed, I'd try something else. And something after that.

"Why are you here, Joss?" I asked, hoping to distract him with conversation. "I'm never going back with you."

"You will, if you know what's good for you."

Maybe it was the wrong move to drive this particular knife in, but I couldn't seem to stop my mouth from forming the words.

"I know what's good for me. His name is Atlas. And he's the kindest, most generous man I've ever met."

"You fucking slut," Joss roared, and I knew I'd managed two things at once.

To completely enrage him.

But also to distract him with his own anger.

"You're mine," he growled, rushing forward toward me, red tinting his vision, making him blind to the scissors as I reached outward, stabbing them into his arm.

I knew I should have aimed for his neck, but the way my stomach knotted at the idea made it impossible.

Still, they sliced into his flesh with less effort than I could have anticipated.

His howl of pain filled the room as he grabbed for the scissors, ripping it out without thinking, sending blood flying across the room, spattering across the walls.

I rushed forward, charging toward the doorway.

I felt my heart surge as I made my way through it, knowing I was just a few yards away from freedom.

Then I felt my bad wrist being grabbed and yanked savagely back.

There was no keeping my cry in my mouth then, thinking my wrist went from possible strain to probable break.

Tears of pain and desperation flooded my eyes, making me have to frantically blink them back as I was whipped around.

I braced myself for it, knowing it was coming. But no matter how much you have been hit, and how you knew it was coming, there was no preparing for the pain as it exploded across my cheek.

The second one came faster than seemed possible, Joss's pain making him angrier, this punch breaking open my lower lip, flooding my mouth with the metallic taste of blood.

This time, though, the force of his blow had me flung away from him, his hand losing its hold of my wrist, leaving me falling backward, unable to react in time to brace my fall, landing hard on my ass.

The pain ratcheted up my spine, setting my teeth on edge as I tried to scramble back, put some distance between us.

Joss's eyes were victorious as he stalked toward me, his jeer a promise of the wicked things he had in mind to do with me.

And with no rooms to either side, nowhere to escape to, I saw no way to break away.

I promised myself I would do whatever I could when the time came. Scratch. Hit. Kick. Bite. Anything. I wouldn't submit. I wouldn't just accept what he had in mind for me.

I would fight, damnit.

"Now, I'm gonna really make you—" he started, bending forward down toward me.

When, suddenly, there was a flash of cream over top of my head, making me jerk backward until I was almost flat on the ground, unsure what the heck was going on.

Until I heard a bellow from Joss.

And a sound I'd never heard before.

A ferocious snarling.

My gaze found the cream-colored form again, recognizing it then as Samson.

Who'd leapt over me, and flung himself at Joss, his teeth viciously sunk into Joss's arm, no matter how much he flailed and tried to push him off.

His little body whacked into the wall, making him release Joss's arm.

But he was unfazed by the pain.

He arched low, his hackles high, and lunged again, his teeth snapping.

Joss scampered backward as Samson charged forward, snapping, snarling, doing everything in his power to protect me.

Joss's eyes were wide with panic as he kept backing up.

Samson kept snapping, biting his leg, then his hand as he tried to swing it at the dog.

It wasn't lost on me that this sweet, angel dog had been a gift from Joss for beating the shit out of me. And that same dog was now protecting me from ever getting hit again.

"Fuck. Back! Fuck," Joss cried as Samson bit again.

He backed him right up into the door I'd been trying to escape from before.

Joss's hands went back behind him, desperately trying to unlock it as Samson kept stalking closer.

"Fuck fuck fuck," Joss cried.

Then, finally, the locks disengaged, and he was running outside.

With Samson in ruthless pursuit.

Alone, I scooted back toward the front of the building, cradling my hand to my chest, then curling up and letting out the sob I'd been holding in.

I wasn't aware of anything but my fear and pain and relief for a long moment.

Until I heard a voice.

But this one, so, so welcome.

"AJ!"

Atlas.

He must have gotten my text.

And rushed to try to save me.

Another sob escaped me, but this time, arms wrapped me up.

And I curled into him, knowing everything would be okay now that he was here.