Shadowlands (Shadowlands (Hyperion)) by Kate Brian Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kate Brian
Tags: Fiction - Young Adult
behave?”
Was I going to be a good girl ? Was he serious?
Adrenaline rushed through me, and I let out a feral scream. I saw the startled look in his eyes just before I hit him, like he hadn’t expected me to fight. Like he’d thought I was just some meek girl who’d gotten lucky back in New Jersey. Like I would just accept that he’d murdered my family, that he’d taken all I had left like it was no more meaningful than snuffing out a candle. Like I was going to be his fifteenth girl after all.
Sixteenth, a mechanical voice in my head said. He’d already taken Darcy.
My knee knocked into his hip with a loud crack. He let out a cry of pain, but I didn’t feel anything except the rage that flowed through me like molten lava. The knife slipped from his hand, landing with a soft thud on the ground at our feet. He grabbed for my shoulder, but I ducked, taking an elbow to his stomach.
He gasped, heaving a loud oof , and went down.
Before I could move, his hand wrapped around my ankle. He gave it a hard tug, and I felt myself falling backward. I kicked hard, flailing my limbs, and my left foot connected with something just as my back hit the ground. I heard a crunch and looked up to see Mr. Nell crouching with his hands over his face. With grim satisfaction, I realized that I’d rebroken his nose.
“You bitch,” he sputtered, blood streaming down his face. I tried to kick him again, but he caught my foot and twisted it, hard. I felt something pop in my leg, and pain exploded through my body. He pinned me down and thrust his knee against my ribs, pressing me against the ground. A moment later, two rough hands closed around my neck and squeezed.
I gasped and strained, my hands pulling at his to try to free myself from his grip, but he was too powerful. His blue eyes bored into mine, and a drop of blood from his broken nose dripped onto my cheek.
“I told you I’d have you,” he said with a smile. His words were warm and sickly loving. “I told you.” He squeezed harder.
Gray spots formed at the edge of my vision. I clutched at the ground, trying to hold on, and my hand felt something cold, metallic.
The knife. My fingers closed around the handle. Summoning all my remaining strength, I arced the knife up and thrust the blade into his back.
He let out a loud roar and flew off me.
Oxygen rushed into my lungs, and I rolled over onto my side, gulping greedily. Mr. Nell contorted his body and pulled the knife from his back. Only the tip was red. The wound wasn’t deep—my fading strength hadn’t allowed for it.
Pain tore through me as I lay there, staring up at my would-be killer. My leg throbbed, my neck was tender, and each inhale sent needles through my chest; Mr. Nell had broken my ribs when he knelt on me.
But I still had one good leg, my arms, and my rage.
When Steven charged me again, knife in hand, I was ready for him. A second before he reached me, I swung my right leg out and tripped him, then trapped my legs in his. It was agony, but I held on.
The move was something Darcy and I had done when we used to play Crocodile in our backyard when we were little. Our legs were the snapping jaws, and we’d bring down each other and our friends when they tried to jump over us.
And just like our friends had, Steven tumbled over me, his legs trapped in mine. He twisted, trying to stay upright, but went down, landing hard on his back, his right hand pummeling down on my stomach while his left flopped uselessly against the ground. I gasped at the impact, and he let out a low groan, the wind knocked out of him.
“I told you I’d get you,” he rasped once more, a small smile flitting across his bloody lips.
I blinked, confused. But as I struggled to sit up, a sharp pain tore through my abdomen. It was then that I realized that the knife was still in Steven’s hand—and that the blade was buried in my stomach. Only the hilt was visible, and all around it bloomed a dark, growing stain. I noticed with an
Was I going to be a good girl ? Was he serious?
Adrenaline rushed through me, and I let out a feral scream. I saw the startled look in his eyes just before I hit him, like he hadn’t expected me to fight. Like he’d thought I was just some meek girl who’d gotten lucky back in New Jersey. Like I would just accept that he’d murdered my family, that he’d taken all I had left like it was no more meaningful than snuffing out a candle. Like I was going to be his fifteenth girl after all.
Sixteenth, a mechanical voice in my head said. He’d already taken Darcy.
My knee knocked into his hip with a loud crack. He let out a cry of pain, but I didn’t feel anything except the rage that flowed through me like molten lava. The knife slipped from his hand, landing with a soft thud on the ground at our feet. He grabbed for my shoulder, but I ducked, taking an elbow to his stomach.
He gasped, heaving a loud oof , and went down.
Before I could move, his hand wrapped around my ankle. He gave it a hard tug, and I felt myself falling backward. I kicked hard, flailing my limbs, and my left foot connected with something just as my back hit the ground. I heard a crunch and looked up to see Mr. Nell crouching with his hands over his face. With grim satisfaction, I realized that I’d rebroken his nose.
“You bitch,” he sputtered, blood streaming down his face. I tried to kick him again, but he caught my foot and twisted it, hard. I felt something pop in my leg, and pain exploded through my body. He pinned me down and thrust his knee against my ribs, pressing me against the ground. A moment later, two rough hands closed around my neck and squeezed.
I gasped and strained, my hands pulling at his to try to free myself from his grip, but he was too powerful. His blue eyes bored into mine, and a drop of blood from his broken nose dripped onto my cheek.
“I told you I’d have you,” he said with a smile. His words were warm and sickly loving. “I told you.” He squeezed harder.
Gray spots formed at the edge of my vision. I clutched at the ground, trying to hold on, and my hand felt something cold, metallic.
The knife. My fingers closed around the handle. Summoning all my remaining strength, I arced the knife up and thrust the blade into his back.
He let out a loud roar and flew off me.
Oxygen rushed into my lungs, and I rolled over onto my side, gulping greedily. Mr. Nell contorted his body and pulled the knife from his back. Only the tip was red. The wound wasn’t deep—my fading strength hadn’t allowed for it.
Pain tore through me as I lay there, staring up at my would-be killer. My leg throbbed, my neck was tender, and each inhale sent needles through my chest; Mr. Nell had broken my ribs when he knelt on me.
But I still had one good leg, my arms, and my rage.
When Steven charged me again, knife in hand, I was ready for him. A second before he reached me, I swung my right leg out and tripped him, then trapped my legs in his. It was agony, but I held on.
The move was something Darcy and I had done when we used to play Crocodile in our backyard when we were little. Our legs were the snapping jaws, and we’d bring down each other and our friends when they tried to jump over us.
And just like our friends had, Steven tumbled over me, his legs trapped in mine. He twisted, trying to stay upright, but went down, landing hard on his back, his right hand pummeling down on my stomach while his left flopped uselessly against the ground. I gasped at the impact, and he let out a low groan, the wind knocked out of him.
“I told you I’d get you,” he rasped once more, a small smile flitting across his bloody lips.
I blinked, confused. But as I struggled to sit up, a sharp pain tore through my abdomen. It was then that I realized that the knife was still in Steven’s hand—and that the blade was buried in my stomach. Only the hilt was visible, and all around it bloomed a dark, growing stain. I noticed with an