Subject Me To Love [Book Two]

Chapter Nineteen

*Not edited*Not proofread*

Chapter 19– Deranged, even:

Everything happens a lot faster than it seems to process in my mind. It doesn't take me long to figure out how to get out of the hold; normally I'd throw my head back in hopes to break their nose, however, they're taller than me so I'd just hit their chest. Kicking their legs from underneath them also isn't an option, seeing as they're standing with them wide apart.

Instead, I take their right arm and— admittedly with a lot of effort considering their grip is surprisingly fucking tight— I pry it off my left arm and bend their wrist at an angle until I hear a snap. It distracts them long enough for their hold to loosen and I'm able to use my arm to drive my elbow into their chest, causing them to be temporarily winded.

I spin around on my feet and take a step back so I'm able to get a good look at them.

It's a man— that much I can tell. His body is large and muscular, definitely strong, and I can tell he's tall even if he is hunched over slightly. His clothes are dark; black trousers with a matching shirt. His arms are bare, covered in tattoo's, and I wonder if he's unaffected by the cold or just impractical.

He has brown hair, but that's all I can see for the moment as I'm unable to get a look at his face until he lifts his head up. Once he does, he looks at me from under his eyelashes, dark eyebrows creased in rage and minor discomfort.

As soon as his eyes meet mine, I recognise him and take another cautious step back.

Had he been the ordinary, average American mugger, I wouldn't be so anxious. But the fact that he was most likely trained the exact same way I was, has me on edge— and rightfully so.

Anything that reminds me of the facility makes me feel extremely uneasy and defensive.

"You fucking bitch," Mac's guard seethes in anger as he slowly straightens himself up. I watch him with caution, my eyes scanning every part of his body for a possible weapon.

I notice a gun at the waistband of his jeans.

"You grabbed me from behind in an isolated park while it's pitch black. If anyone's a bitch, I'd say it's you," I snap back. "So I'm going to give you five seconds to start explaining before I snap your neck."

"I think it's you that needs to do some explaining," he spits out, advancing towards me. As soon as he's close enough, I kick my leg out and send a harsh blow to his abdomen and watch as he grips at the spot in pain. While he's distracted, I grab for his gun and point it towards him before he can stop me, distancing myself from him so he can't suddenly lunge forward and claim it back.

"I'm not fucking playing," I grit my teeth, taking the safety off. "So tell me what the fuck you want or I'll shoot your dick off with your own gun."

Smartly, he holds his hands up by his head, his palms facing me to let me know he's unarmed. I raise an impatient eyebrow and shift the gun, warning him to speed things along because I'm not one for patience.

"Did Mac send you?" I blurt, not actually giving him the chance to speak like I just commanded him to, my curiosity getting the better of me. I'm not meant to be doing the questioning, he's meant to be telling me the information I want to know willingly, but I really can't help myself.

"This has nothing to do with Mac," he replies gruffly, his response vague. If it's nothing to do with Mac, then there's only one other thing it could be.