Dante's Fire Read Online Free Page A

happened before, walking the dark streets alone. One would be a fool not to be prepared. She ran her thumb over the dense key tips, ready to swing if necessary. She picked up the pace; sure she’d increased the gap between her and those on the sidewalk behind her.
    Seconds later, she was grabbed from behind. She hadn’t the time to react as the palm of her assailant stifled her scream, and her keys fell to the ground. She tried to bite, kicked back hard, but they dragged her down the stairs of a brownstone into the small, black space where barred windows told of a vacant, closed apartment. Her back hit the brick wall so hard her teeth knocked together.
    The breath whooshed out of her lungs and the world tilted. Adrenalin cut through her body in a rush of cold, sharp fear, and she moved fast, seeing a gap in the space between them and diving as fast as possible for freedom.
    She never made it.
    The first punch connected with her cheek. A sickening crack rose to her eardrums as she fell hard on her ass. The pain rolled in waves and she choked on the nausea, fighting for consciousness. When she tried to rise, the kick to her stomach made sure she stayed down. She retched, but then there were hands pushing her onto the rough, cold pavement. Her mind screamed, but her voice sounded weak as she cried the mantra over and over, the only word she could think of, the only word holding her to sanity.
    "No, no, no, no, no..."
    "Shut up, bitch."
    The slap stung, then burned. They ripped off the trendy coat, tore the delicate cardigan sweater she'd once been so proud of. It had been her favorite. Her power cardigan. They cursed, their voices low and mean, blending in a never-ending nightmare. She pushed, she kicked, but they hit her, held her, and suddenly her breasts were naked and bare to their filthy gazes. The air rushed over her skin and she almost retched, feeling the torn fabric hanging in tatters around her, while hard hands groped and touched and mauled and marked.
    She slipped when they tore her jeans. She knew she wouldn't be saved, knew she had to go somewhere else. There was too much horror, the shadows hiding their faces, her vision blurred with the pain and the blood dripping into her eyes as they tore her hair. She took a step into the distance, away from the woman on the ground who was rich, confident, and working on a killer deal. Back, back, back… away from this moment. This terrible and horrible moment. She closed her eyes, focusing on everything…anything, but this moment… and then… then…
    They were gone.
    Her mind flew from where it had wandered and she suddenly found herself gasping for air, her sanity stolen from the monsters that ran into the night. Sobs escaped her lips as she pushed herself up from the ground; knowing she had to run, get help. The rusty taste of blood lingered on her tongue, and she got on her hands and knees and began crawling. Up the stairs and to the light. Help, help, she needed help...
    She pushed up to her feet. Fell. Grasped at the torn fabric beside her, needing to cover her naked breasts, and tried again. Selina wobbled, maintained her balance, and began to stumble forward to safety.
    Then she looked up.
    The two men who had been on her seconds before lay on the ground in a broken tangle. One flat on his back, the other draped over him in obvious pain, apparent by the low groans coming from the ground. A man stood over them dressed completely in black, his eyes glowing in the darkness.
    Selina froze in sheer terror. Her mind groped desperately for reality but fear pulsed through every blood vessel, pumping furiously as her entire body shook in reaction to the scene before her. The rage shimmering around the man reached out in a tangible ripple, whirling around the sprawled attackers like a tornado. As this tornado grew denser and picked up in speed, the sound of a crashing wave roared in her ears. The darkness turned to a dim red, glowing and illuminating the two men on the