Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16567 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 83(@200wpm)___ 66(@250wpm)___ 55(@300wpm)
“I’ll take my chances.”
I open the door and step inside.
The giant fucker stands behind Sedona, with one arm wrapped around her throat and the other around her belly. They’re on her side of the desk, and from what I can gauge, he isn’t suffocating her. He’s just playing out a power fantasy.
I shut the door behind me and step deeper into the room.
“Making a habit of letting convicts loose, huh, Doc?” I tease. It isn’t the time, sure, but she’s safe because I’m here.
Sedona’s eyes light up on seeing me.
“Don’t you take one step closer,” the giant speaks. His voice carries the same dullness as the rest of the medicated hoard who inhabit this asylum.
“Or you’ll what?” I take another step against his threat. “Trust me, big boy, if you hurt a hair on her head, I’ll tear your dick off and beat you to death with it.”
Being confined with people like him, I’ve learned their habits and what makes them tick. Threats of violence are often the best motivation to stop. Unlike me, they lack clarity and foresight.
“You’re like me. You’re not gonna hurt me,” the lummox says.
“You sure about that?” Another step forward.
This time, he recoils with Sedona in tow. The back of his knees hit a low shelf full of trinkets, and it causes them to stumble. Well, no time like the present. On his misstep, I sprint forward. Sedona lets out a little yelp but ducks as far away as she can before I collide with the giant. His grip releases fully as our bodies meet, and Sedona dips off to the side.
I tackle the brute to the ground, and he meets my eyes with a panicked stare. It doesn't last long before my fists start connecting with every part of his face.
“You think you’re a big man, huh?” Right hook. “Trying to hurt someone who can’t defend themselves?” Left. “Always a tough bastard until someone bigger rocks around.” Right, left, right. A constant stream of fists long after the crying stopped, and my knuckles dripped red.
“Victor, stop. You’re going to kill him,” Sedona’s voice hits my ear.
To hell with it. Death is a mercy for this piece of shit. I’m not stopping until he’s learned a lesson even his fucked-up mind won’t forget.
6
SEDONA
Victor Cullen is a savage.
The raw aggression and violence should make me the sixth psychiatrist to drop him as a patient. Instead, watching him pummel Tom Reeves lights a fire in my chest and opens the floodgates between my thighs.
Sure, I want to run. Straight into his arms. Trip over and fall straight on his cock.
Thinking about him fucking me right now? Maybe there is something wrong with me.
“Victor, you need to stop. Guards are going to be here any second,” I say in a commanding whisper, lest they’re already outside and listening in.
Victor turns to me on mention of the approaching guards, red flecks of Tom’s blood sprinkled across his face. “Fuck ‘em. This piece of shit touched you, and he’s going to pay.” He swings another wild fist at Tom’s limp body. “I’m the only one who can touch you.”
Something about the way he says those words makes the heat between my legs intensify.
“You’re the only one I want touching me,” I say. Hopefully, this will help snap him out of it.
Victor looks back at me, astonished, before my office door bursts open, and six men step inside. They’re dressed in full riot gear. Two hold non-lethal shotguns, and they stand behind a wall of four carrying massive see-through shields.
“Get off of the patient and raise your hands in the air,” one of them barks.
“Go fuck yourself.” Victor spits in their direction. He’s met by both shotguns firing in unison.
The beanbags hit Victor with enough force to knock him off balance. He roars a thunderous war cry and drops to his ass. But before he can react, the four shields are on him, with one of the two shotgun wielders tying his hands together with a zip tie.
“Nice of you guys to finally show up,” Victor snarls.
The guard doesn’t speak while he hoists Victor to his feet. Another attaches his shield over his shoulder, and together, the two grab Victor by the arm to drag him out of the room. As he walks, his eyes turn back to me. An impish smile flashes on his face, and before they get him through the door, he winks at me.
And like a schoolgirl with her first crush, my heart melts into my tummy.
“Are you okay, Dr. Quinn?” the only guard who didn’t join in carrying Victor off asks. His shotgun is fixed on Tom’s still body.
“Yes. I wasn’t hurt.”
“What the hell even happened here?” His question comes out more as dumbfounded than interrogatory. No doubt because a patient came to my rescue while they were in the locker room getting armed to the teeth.