32

“Ready for the night of your life?” the one on my right asks. “Fuck…you,” I mumble, but it ends in a muffled voice when he seizes my hair and yanks me up. When Kane did this, I was turned on, even if slightly apprehensive. Now, I’m terrified to the core despite the artificial aphrodisiac. The air thickens further, the scent of sweat and something sickly sweet clinging to my skin, smothering me. Everything is slipping away—my grip on reality, my control, my strength. Vicious hands start to hook into my jersey, and I push with all of my might, but it barely touches them. Get up. Fight. You’ve always stood up for yourself. Fight. Don’t scream. Fight. Don’t cry. Fight. Fight, Dahlia. Fight! With painstaking effort, I pull my leg loose, aiming a desperate kick at the tallest guy’s crotch. I don’t think it’s that strong, but he wails in pain and lifts his hand. Raising my arm, I place it in front of my face to protect myself. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The whole room goes quiet at t