Psychos (Depraved Sinners 1) - Page 25

What the fuck am I supposed to do?

In an instant, the dim light coming from the lanterns behind me goes out and I’m left in nothing but darkness. My heart races and my eyes widen in fear, but nothing is worse than the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway as something metallic drags against the stone ground, not even the sound of the ferocious animal.

“No, no, no, no,” I breathe as I start backing up, too fucking petrified to concentrate on a game plan.

The sound gets louder as his wide strides bring him closer and closer, and I can only imagine the smug as fuck look on his damn face, knowing exactly what this bullshit is doing to me.

My back hits the wall of the small round space, just missing the entrance of the pathway directly opposite to the looming figure, but that small touch on my back is all I need to jolt me back into action.

Spinning on my heel, I launch myself down the long, dark corridor, having absolutely no idea where it leads or what’s waiting for me at the end. All I know is that anything is better than the bullshit behind me. My heart thunders in my chest to the point of pain, but I push through it, determined to somehow save my life despite the fact that everything about this night has proven over and over again that I’m nothing but a pawn in their fucked-up games.

With one hand dragging along the wall, I run until my toes slam against a hard step, sending me tumbling against a set of stairs that were invisible in the dark.

I scramble up them, forcing myself to not look back, fearful of what I might see. There’s a wicked ache against the front of my chest from where the edge of the concrete step broke against my skin. It sure as hell is going to bruise, but what does it even matter right now?

My knees shake with fear, making each clumsy stride up the stairs feel impossible. The metallic sound following me down the hallway whines over my ragged panting, fueling each step forward. All of this is getting more fucked up by the second.

I reach the top step and feel in front of me, finding another hard door blocking my way. “FUCK,” I cry as my hands roam over the splintered wood, desperately seeking freedom.

Cold metal skims across my fingertips and I latch onto it with everything that I have. The door is heavy as fuck. I press the weight of my whole body against it to bust it open and it creaks loudly, the sound a testament to just how rarely this door has been used.

A dim light shines through the small crack and I push just a little harder, feeling the sweet relief of light. The door opens just enough that I can finally slip through the narrow gap, and as I break out into an old wine cellar, complete with antique wooden barrels, I come to a screeching standstill, finding Roman DeAngelis standing right before me with a giant fucking dog at his side, growling like he’s about to get dinner, dessert, and a fucking show.

I scramble back, my spine slamming against the sharp edge of the open door as he seems to loom over me, his wicked scar peeking out from under his dark hoodie. His eyes are filled with fire, a raging storm brewing beneath them. I can’t tell if this sick little game is getting him off or if he’s pissed as all hell that I broke their stupid little rules about making a run for it. Either way, I don’t want to find out.

Roman moves toward me, his big-ass dog moving with him as his sharp teeth seem to glisten in the dim light. A growl sounds through the room, but I can’t tell if it’s coming from Roman or the dog. All I can focus on is the way he continues to move toward me, almost as though he’s floating across the floor.

My back presses harder against the door and I hear the footsteps in the hallway behind me finally reaching the stairs. I shake my head. “No. No, please don’t,” I cry as tears flow down my cheeks, dropping onto my chest and staining my already filthy skin.

A second growl comes from behind the door and I quickly realize that there must be another dog, but all that matters is Roman and the way his hand moves by his side.

My gaze drops, desperate to know what he has planned for me, but the lighting is too low, I can barely make out his face, let alone what’s in his hand. All I can see is that it’s some kind of dark material and … fuck, what’s that smell?

Tags: Sheridan Anne Depraved Sinners Romance
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