From the corner of her eye, she noticed the pervert stirring again. She didn't wait to see what he would do. She snatched another handful of grit from the floor and hurled it with everything she had.
It struck him full in the face. He recoiled, howling as he clawed at his eyes, blinded and neutralized for the moment.
"Zane! Stay with me!" she whimpered, cupping his face in her hands. "Don't pass out. I won't be able to get us out of here—you, me, and our child. Please…!"
Zane's eyes remained tightly shut. He shook his head, trying to pierce the gray blur clouding his vision. Pain shot up from his spine, exploding at the base of his skull—a disorienting, agonizing weight threatening to drag him into unconsciousness.
"Zane? Can you hear me?!" she called again, her voice thin and desperate.
He lifted a blurred gaze toward her. For a heartbeat, he saw the raw terror etched in her features. Was she scared for him—or terrified that if he fell, she would be utterly alone?
