Goodbye My Arrogant Ex (Marguerite and Leonard) novel Chapter 6

Through the faint light filtering through the burlap sack, Marguerite watched as Benjamin drew closer.

Crack!

The baseball bat came down hard against her side.

Marguerite let out a cry of pain, the metallic taste of blood already seeping between her teeth. Her vision blurred, the world swimming in and out of focus.

But the man in front of her didn’t stop. Again and again, the blows rained down—ninety-nine in total—before Benjamin finally relented.

He tossed the bat aside and turned, striding toward Fiona.

As he turned his back, someone lowered Marguerite to the ground. The white towel gagging her mouth was now soaked through with blood, the crimson spreading in a chilling bloom.

“Ben, I was so scared,” Fiona whimpered, almost running as she threw herself into Benjamin’s arms. She clung tightly to his waist, but her eyes darted past him, landing on Marguerite—who had just been dragged out of the sack. Fiona’s gaze glinted with triumph and challenge, as if to say:

See what happens when you try to steal my man?

Blood frothed in Marguerite’s throat as she stared at Benjamin, her voice a raw whisper. “Benjamin…”

The weak, broken sound made Benjamin frown. That voice—could it be Marguerite?

He was about to turn and see what was happening behind him when, suddenly, Fiona collapsed in his arms.

“Fiona!”

All his attention shifted at once. When he couldn’t rouse her, he simply scooped her up and carried her out, striding toward his car and driving away without a backward glance.

Marguerite lay on the ground, watching them leave. Her heart plummeted.

Someone untied the thick rope binding her wrists, only to shove her into the back of a van like she was nothing more than a sack of garbage.

A sharp, suffocating pain stabbed through her ribs with every movement.

Blackness threatened the edges of her vision.

Outside, the men barely spared her a glance as they argued over what to do next.

In a heartbeat, Marguerite made up her mind. As one of the men approached with a length of rope, she snatched the shard and pressed it to his throat, fast as lightning.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he sputtered.

Blood welled up where the metal bit into his skin.

“Let me go!” Marguerite’s voice was hoarse, her eyes wild with fury.

The man hesitated, about to answer, when suddenly a commotion erupted outside the van—a crash, followed by the unmistakable sounds of a fight.

Moments later, the van door was flung open.

Several men in black suits stood outside, the one in front wearing rimless glasses and an air of calm authority.

“Ms. Taylor, forgive us for being late.”

Marguerite stared at them, wary and dazed, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Who are you?”