I don’t even feel sorry for the bastard when Kingston’s fist flies out and takes Barclay down with one punch. Unfortunately, that single hit also sparks an instant full-on brawl.
“Ah, fuck,” I mutter, right before some Barbie wannabe bitch-slaps me.
Oh, hell, no. I don't even know who this chick is! I raise my fist and clock her right in the jaw. She goes stumbling back into the wall, eyes widening when I stalk after her, getting right in her face.
“Touch me again, and I’ll make you regret it,” I snarl.
“I’m sorry!” Barbie holds her hands up and recoils when I fake a punch.
I catch sight of Bentley diving into the fray, and part of me worries he's too fucked up to handle himself. However, my concern only lasts a second when I see Bent expertly dodge a punch before he starts wailing on the idiot who tried to hit him. Fists are flying everywhere. Girls are screaming. Half the partygoers are throwing down—some of them looking way too happy about that—and the other half are tripping over each other to get away. I lose sight of Bentley and Kingston in all the ruckus, but I'm too busy to worry about it.
Some asshole lunges for me, so I jab the heel of my hand into his throat. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to never hit a girl, dickhead?”
He clenches his neck, wheezing. “Stupid bitch.”
Oh, no, he didn't!
I slam a hand down on his shoulder for leverage and knee this motherfucker in the balls as hard as I can. He drops to the ground instantly, whimpering in the fetal position.
“Think about that next time you want to beat on a woman.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Peyton trying to run away. She’s fucking kidding herself if she thinks I’ll let her get past me. I know she’s responsible for that video. I don’t know how she got past the lock on the bedroom door, but the skank figured it out somehow.
I leap over the asshole clutching his balls and give chase. As soon as Peyton sees me, she veers left and darts up the stairs. Clearly, she's never watched a horror movie in her damn life, because she would've known she had a much better chance of escape had she run outside instead. When I reach the top level, I look around but don't see her. I start opening the doors, one by one until I hit a roadblock. The second to last door is locked, and I know she's behind it.
I pound on the wood with a closed fist. “Come out here and take your ass-kicking like a real woman, Peyton!”
“Fuck you!” she yells through the door.
I study the doorknob, trying to figure out whether or not I can break in. It’s not a key lock, but it is one of those pinhole ones like Charles has in the mansion, so I’d still need a tool to get in. Fuck. How am I going to—
Something hard whacks me on the head from behind, slamming my face into the door with a resounding thud. Spots dance before my eyes as I stumble backward. Before I can catch my balance, I’m pushed to the floor with such force, my teeth clank together.
“Fuck,” I mumble, the spottiness getting worse.
I grunt as a knee lands in the middle of my spine while a strong hand pushes on the back of my skull. My arms are trapped beneath me, and my face is being smashed into the carpet so hard, the skin on my forehead and the bridge of my nose is getting massive rug burns.
Warm breath infused with alcohol hits my ear as a deep voice growls, “You’re not so tough now, are you? You know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.” I cringe when he nuzzles his face into my hair. “How badly I want to make you scream as I take your pretty little cunt. Although, after seeing that video, I think I’d much rather fuck your face first. You’d look incredible choking on my cock, tears streaming down your face.”
I try not to go there, but I'm suddenly back in those woods, bleeding and broken. How could I not think about it, when the same man who tried to rape me is currently crushing me with his weight, and his musky bergamot cologne is infiltrating my nose?
“Please don’t do this,” I sob into the thickly carpeted floor.
My voice is so muffled, I'm not sure he can hear me. I definitely know I can't manage to scream for help like this. God, I hate being so weak, but I can't fucking breathe. Can't move. My heart feels like it's trying to claw its way out of my chest. How sad is it that I hope Peyton comes out of that room and scares this guy away? I doubt that's going to happen though because there's a real possibility she just set me up.
“Oh, Jasmine, you don’t get to run the show here.” I stiffen when he says my name. “Yeah, that’s right; I know exactly who you are. Where you live. I’ve been watching you. Waiting. Your boyfriend just gave me the perfect opportunity by starting that fight. Maybe I should send him your panties as a thank you after I rip them off your body.”
I whimper.
He wraps his fist around my hair and pulls so hard my eyes water. "What do you say we take advantage of one of these bedrooms? I’m sure I can find something to tie you up with. I’d have to blindfold you, too, but I’m sure you understand why.”
The guy curses when someone downstairs yells, “Cops! Everybody get the fuck out!”
Oh, thank God.
Out of my peripheral, I see a meaty fist coming at the side of my head, but I can’t do anything to stop it. The last thing I hear before I blackout is, “This isn’t over, bitch.”
“JAZZ! WAKE THE FUCK up!”