Barty grimaced as her shrieks pierced his eardrums. “Oh, quiet, you,” he muttered. She was strong. But the fight was disappointing. He only struggled to keep hold of her, but nothing more. No cuts or bruises. No straining. He wasn’t even pumped up yet. It was a pity, too. She was beautiful. In a way.
“Come on, Angel,” he murmured patronizingly, drawing her closer into his body. “At least make this interesting.”
“You’re disgusting,” she hissed. Angelina’s eyes were filling with angry tears, and her body was shaking. She struggled with renewed vigor and managed to elbow him and free herself from his grip, glaring at him with eyes full of hatred.
Barty rubbed his torso where she’d managed to elbow him, staring at her as she tried to move away discreetly. “You’ll have to do better than that, sweetcheeks,” he growled, catching her around the waist and allowing his hands to trail up her body. “That barely bruised, Angel.” Barty’s lips parted in a twisted grin as he moved to cover her lips with his.
Angelina acted on instinct and gave Barty a sharp slap to the side of his face. It was enough to deter him and she backed away, holding her arms up between them. They weren’t too far apart—he was a very present danger. Angelina, using the split-second she had, felt her jean pockets. Panic spread through her again, worse than before.
She didn’t have time to worry about whether or not Barty had somehow taken it. She darted, running as fast as she could. Angelina always loved running—after this, she might have to reconsider.
20 Notes/ Hide
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