Dean crouched down again, his eyes gleaming with sick amusement as he twirled the knife in his fingers before pointing the sharp edge directly at Ann.
"The last time we met…" He smirked, tilting his head. "I was under your feet. But this time—" He let out a dark chuckle. "I can do anything."
Ann tensed.
She could see it in his eyes—the hunger for revenge.
She barely had time to react before his fingers curled into her hair, yanking her up forcefully. A sharp cry escaped her lips as a jolt of pain shot through her scalp.
He didn't stop there.
With a harsh shove, he sent her stumbling backward.
Her back slammed against the cold, hard metal of a wrecked car.
A groan of pain slipped from her lips as she winced, her breath coming out in short, shaky bursts. She instinctively reached back to steady herself against the car, her fingers pressing into the rough, rusted surface.
No way to run.
She was completely cornered.
