Page 96 of Vicious Deception

So I do the only thing I can—I run. I’ve always been fast on my feet, and I have to hope that Thomas’s age has gotten the better of him. I dash down the hallway, hearing Thomas’s footsteps pounding behind me.

“Wren,” my mom cries from the doorway. “Stop! He won’t hurt you.”

But it’s a lie—a lie she’s been telling herself for far too many years.

I don’t have time to wait for the elevator, so I shove the stairwell door open and dive down the stairs. Thomas is right behind me—gaining on me, I think—but I don’t dare look back.

My panic rises at being in the stairwell with Thomas again. My entire body is screaming at me that this is a bad idea, but what else am I supposed to do?

I reach the first landing and barrel toward the next flight of stairs. But just as I’m about to take the first step down, Thomas grabs my hair and yanks me back.

“No!” I scratch at his arms, desperate to break free.

He slams me against the wall, and pain explodes at the base of my skull. “What the fuck did you think you were going to accomplish by running? Stop acting like a child, Wren.”

Not again. Oh my god, not again.

“Let—let go of me!” I shove against him, wracking my brain for how to get out of this position.

“Then come back to the apartment,” Thomas says menacingly, “unless you want a repeat of the last time we were in here.”

“No,” I screech. We’re right by the stairs. One simple shove, and he’d send me tumbling down.

Rhett never taught me what to do if someone pinned me against a wall, but he still taught me plenty. Use your surroundings to your advantage. Throw off your opponent’s balance. Use your own weight against them.

“I’m not above dragging you back.”

I don’t respond, focusing all of my energy on getting the hell away from Thomas. Gritting my teeth, I slam my knee into his crotch, watching his eyes go wide with pain. He lets go of me, doubling over, and I scramble free.

“You fuckingbitch,”he groans. “You’ll pay for this.”

“Wren?” I hear Rhett call, his voice echoing from below, but it barely registers in my mind.

Thomas is already straightening. Before he can take another step toward me, though, I realize I have an opening. A chance to repay him for what he did to me.

I don’t think about it—I just move. With all my strength, I shove Thomas backward—right down the stairs. His arms flail as he tries to catch himself but fails. I cringe when his head hits the concrete with a sickening sound.

“Wren!” Rhett’s voice is louder now, and I realize he’s on the landing below—the one that my stepfather just rolled onto. He ignores Thomas’s body, jumping over it and taking the stairs two at a time. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“He—he . . .” I blink, staring up at him when he grabs my shoulders. His touch is gentle and comforting, a welcome contrast to the rough way Thomas handled me.

“Christ, sweetheart, you’re shaking.” Rhett’s arms envelop me, and I press my face into his chest, breathing in his calming scent.

“I didn’t know they were here,” I say weakly.

“They? Who is he?” He glances down at Thomas, who’s just beginning to stir. Recognition flickers over Rhett’s face. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Is your mom here, too?”

I nod. “She didn’t follow.”

“Follow?” Rhett frowns.

“I . . . I ran. Thomas chased after me.”

“You’re okay?”