Page 72 of Auctioned to the Devil

My fucking girl is alive.

A man has his arm around her throat.

Gun pressed against her ribs.

“Stop!”

I do.

Emily’s eyes lock on mine.

Fear.

Relief.

Anger.

Of course she’s angry.

“Hi,” she says shakily.

Jesus Christ.

“Hi, city girl.”

“You took your time.”

The man holding her looks between us.

“Shut up.”

I don’t look away from Emily.

“You hurt?”

“I’m okay.”

“Emily.”

“My wrist. Nothing bad.”

“Good.”

Her captor pushes the gun harder against her.

“I said shut the fuck up.”

My eyes move to him. “You should take that gun off her.”

He laughs nervously. “Or what?”

“You really want me to answer that?”

“Back up.”

I don’t.

“Caleb,” Emily whispers.