I didn't need to see his face. It was my ex-husband. He'd found me.
My body moved before my mind caught up, slamming into him with everything I had, trying to run.
But his hand clamped down on my arm.
His voice came from above my head, laced with amusement. "You really made me work to find you, sweetheart."
Every hair on my body stood on end.
"Come here, come here. Let me hold you. It's been so long."
He wrenched me around and crushed me against his chest.
I went rigid. I didn't dare move.
His voice came again, slow and low. "Hug me back."
It wasn't a request. It was a threat.
I raised my arms slowly, stiff as boards, and placed them against his shirt.
"There's my girl." He rubbed his chin against the top of my head. "Still mad at your husband?"
I said nothing.
He waited a few seconds. I could hear his breathing and my own heart hammering out of my chest.
Then the back of my skull cracked against the fire door.
His hand closed around my throat, and his voice exploded.
"I asked you a question! Are you deaf?!"
The back of my head throbbed, pain splintering out from the point of impact.
His fingers dug into my neck. I couldn't breathe.
My vision started to blur. I bit down hard on my own tongue, forcing myself to stay conscious.
Because this was the opening I'd been waiting for.
I gathered every ounce of strength I had and drove my foot up between his legs.
He doubled over, howling, and I threw myself past him and ran.
Shoes would only slow me down. The second I cleared the door I kicked them off and sprinted barefoot.
My only possession clutched tight in my fist: my phone.
I ran for my life out of that building.
I ran like a cornered mouse spotted by a cat, panicked and blank-minded, stumbling onto the brightly lit main road.
Only then did I realize my hands had been clenched so hard they'd gone numb.
The gleaming "Fox Group" sign loomed ahead. I steeled myself, smoothed the wrinkles on my clothes, and walked barefoot toward the entrance.
People make reckless decisions when they're desperate.
I walked and wrestled with myself at the same time, trying to figure out how to get inside, how to talk my way into staying one night.
The stairwell was out of the question now. Derek had probably torn through everything I owned in a rage.
What was I supposed to do tomorrow?
My head was so full of how to survive the next few hours that I didn't notice the group of people walking toward me.