Strays

Chapter 8 *Edited*

I barely had a chance to catch my breath before Michael was yanking me up off the ground, the gun pressed against the base of my spine. Fear curled like a fist in my chest as the gravity of the situation began to sink in but despite the danger, I couldn't help but feel oddly flattered that he thought a gun was even necessary.

He pushed me up against the side of the jungle gym with a little more force than strictly needed and I was forced to turn my head, my cheek pressing against the cool wood. The barrel of the gun brushed the hem of my jacket and I shivered.

"Why can't you just do what you're told?" he demanded coldly.

He nudged my left arm and I flinched, but he just patted me down roughly, searching for hidden weapons. I felt a spark of anger surge through me as I processed his words. He was the one who hadn't accepted my offer of help, the one who had kicked me out.

"I don't take orders from you," I bit out.

His hand froze on my calf, and then his fingers closed around my leg. I held my breath, suddenly hyperaware of the way his nails dug into the fabric of my jeans, and for a long moment, the only sound I could hear was my heartbeat racing in my chest.

I waited for him to do something — to tear into my leg, to squeeze the trigger — as my gaze wandered to the spot where I stood nine years ago and whispered, "I know what you are."

But I hadn't. I didn't — not really.

I doubted I would ever understand the man behind me.

"This isn't a joke," he growled. The sound rumbled through his chest like thunder, pure animal.

He rose, towering over me. I knew what he was doing — trying to intimidate me — and I hated that it was working.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" he pressed, like the thought angered him. He pushed the barrel of the gun beneath the hem of my jacket and the touch of cold metal against my bare skin made me shiver.

Was I?

Sebastien's face flashed through my mind, but —

No. Moving back to London might have been a catastrophically bad decision, but I wasn't suicidal.

"You're the one who almost shot me," I pointed out.

I heard the sound of clothes rustling, followed by the appearance of a set of cable ties in my periphery, and then he said, "I don't miss."

I didn't have time to process what his words meant because in the next second, he was grabbing both of my wrists and attempting to curl the cable ties around them. I tried to yank my hands away but his grip was too strong and tight, holding me in place.

Panic shot through me when I realised what he was trying to do. I kicked out desperately, slamming the heel of my boot into his shins. A burst of strength rose in my blood and I lashed out at him from behind, kicking and pinching any part of him I came into contact with until finally he released me, ripping me away from the jungle gym. He twisted me around and shoved me back against the wooden panels, and all I got was a glimpse of his angry, amber eyes before his lips collided with mine.