Chapter 89

Dom carried Demetria from the bedroom while she grabbed tightly to every door jamb and kicked her feet. Dom hardly seemed to notice. Pure panic coursed through her, lighting a fire inside.

She'd never had a more obvious need for fight or flight in her life.

This was it. She had to beat Dom, this big man carrying her around like a caveman. It felt like an impossible task, but she had to try for her life.

He carried her toward the kitchen, and she heard him slinging things out of his way. When she heard the utensil drawer open, her body went into panic mode.

Was he grabbing a knife to slaughter her with? It hardly seemed like a quick, non-painful death that he'd promised.

Demetria swung her legs wildly, kicking and

screaming. Dom shifted to get a better grip, and Demetria noticed a pot sitting on the counter. She gripped the handle and brought it up to Dom's face.

He hissed, dropped her and the knife in his hand, she grabbed it, slicing it across the back of his leg. He howled, leaning