This was the day he had warned her about—the day she’d need to use everything he had taught her.
Her father’s words echoed in her mind: “Fight with everything you have. Ignore the pain. Use whatever you can—wit, charm, seduction, even a splinter of wood. Anything. Just throw them off balance. Get the upper hand.”
The van began to slow.
The man glanced toward the front, distracted for just a moment. It was all Bella needed. Bracing herself against the wall, she pushed up onto her knees, using the van’s side for balance. She forced herself to her feet, muscles trembling but steady enough. When he looked back, she moved.
With all the force she could muster, Bella shoved off the wall and slammed her body into his, catching him completely off guard. His head struck the opposite wall of the van with a sickening crack that reverberated through the small space.
The sound sent a surge of adrenaline through her. Concussion, she thought, her father’s voice in her mind. Always go for the head.
The man growled in pain, his wolf rising in anger. Bella scrambled to regain her footing, but her balance faltered, and she fell backward, hitting the floor with a jarring thud.
The man was up in an instant, rage in his eyes. “What the f**k!” he shouted, lunging toward her.
Bella didn’t hesitate. With both feet, she kicked him as hard as she could. The sharp point of her stiletto heel sank into his abdomen with a grotesque sucking sound.
The man’s scream was deafening, a mix of pain and fury. Warm blood gushed from the wound, soaking her foot and running down her leg. The sharp metallic scent filled the van.
Thank the goddess for four-inch heels, she thought grimly.
As he recoiled, his body wrenched her foot free of the wound, and more blood poured from the gash in his torso, staining his shirt and pooling on the floor. The van jolted to a sudden stop, sending him sprawling.
He fell toward her, his weight crashing down. She managed to bring her knee up to shield herself, but the impact still knocked the wind out of her. Gasping, she tried to push him off, but he was heavy, and his strength far exceeded hers.
“Bitch,” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom. His hands, strong and calloused, wrapped around her waist as he yanked her up off the floor with a rough jerk. “Look what you did to me!”
“What the hell happened?” another voice called from the front of the van.
Bella’s heart raced. Another man. She didn’t know how many more there were, but she wasn’t about to stop fighting. Her father’s training had taught her one thing above all: You only lose when you give up.
“Bloody she-wolf attacked me,” the man growled, his voice thick with pain as he turned Bella around to face away from him, tightening his grip to avoid another surprise strike.
Bella could feel his blood soaking into her blouse, the sticky warmth spreading uncomfortably across her back. The sharp metallic scent filled the air, making her stomach churn. The heel of her stiletto was slick with blood, pooling into her shoe and sticking to the ball of her foot with every slight movement. She knew his wound wouldn’t keep him down for long; his wolf would begin healing him soon enough.
But for now, his grip was unrelenting, his wariness of her heightened.
The van’s side door slid open with a metallic screech, revealing another man. He was tall and lean, his muscular frame outlined under his plain blue tee and jeans. His dark brown eyes scanned the scene, his wolf clearly at the forefront, assessing the situation. She could see the faint green glow within the brown of his irises—a telltale sign that his wolf was ready to take over if needed.
Bella stood frozen, trying to look small and fragile, defenceless. At 5’7” with a slender frame, she could pass for harmless if she played her cards right. But she watched the new wolf carefully, calculating, waiting for the moment to strike if it came to that.
His wolf seemed unimpressed. The green glow receded, leaving his human counterpart in control. A grin spread across his face, casual and cruel.
“Come here, pretty one,” he said, stepping forward. “We’re almost at your destination. Be good now.”
Bella instinctively pressed herself further into the man holding her, as if seeking protection, but it was a ruse. She shook her head vehemently, her voice a low, sharp hiss. “Don’t touch me.”
The man’s grin widened. “Come now,” he crooned mockingly, leaning into the van to grab her. “You’re too pretty to mess up.”
But Bella didn’t wait.
Her right foot shot out with all the strength she could muster. The sharp heel of her stiletto found its mark, sinking deep into the man’s neck. His eyes widened in shock as the blood began to flow, thick and dark. Stumbling back, he clutched at his throat, but it was futile. She had hit her mark with precision—the carotid artery.
He staggered, his face paling as the life drained out of him. Nothing could save him now, not even a goddess-blessed miracle.
The man holding Bella swore violently, his voice roaring so loudly in her ear that the sound made her wince.
“You little bitch!”
In a blind fury, he shoved her out of the van. Hard.
Bella had no time to react, no chance to brace herself. She hit the gravel road face-first with a sickening thud. The sharp rocks tore into her skin, ripping from her temple to her chin, leaving searing, jagged pain in their wake. She felt her shoulder and hip slam into the ground next, the impact sending shockwaves of agony through her body.
She slid along the rough surface, her blouse shredding as her chest scraped against the gravel. Her body finally came to a stop, broken and bleeding.
Tears spilled from her eyes as she tried to breathe, but each attempt sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through her ribs and chest. Her face throbbed, her skin raw and torn. Every inch of her body screamed in agony.
She lay there, helpless, too hurt to move. Her vision blurred, tears mixing with the blood that dripped down her face.
The sound of heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel brought her focus back to the present. She tried to force herself to move, to get away, but her body refused to obey.
She wasn’t done fighting. Not yet. But the pain was overwhelming, and the odds were stacked against her.
