She fought in earnest now as he dragged her toward his pickup at the back of the lot. Her sneakers slipped and stumbled over the gravel.

“Let go of me!”

He tossed her against the side of his truck. Her spine jarred at the impact. “You belong to me, Gloria Parker. You don’t get to leave. Ever.”

“You don’t even love me,” she shouted the truth in his face. He didn’t know what love was. She wasn’t sure if she did either.

“I don’t have to love you. I own you,” he hissed.

Every warning bell she’d developed to alert her to his changes in moods, to danger, clanged to life in her head.

“You don’t,” she told him. “You don’t own me. You have to let me go.”

“I don’t have to do shit,” he slurred.

The backhand caught her by surprise, stunning her. She shook it off as she had so many others and pushed him back. She had to fight now like never before. Her life was at stake.

“You stupid fucking bitch. Ungrateful slut,” he breathed, shoving a hand into her hair and pulling it until she yelped. He liked when she cried. Liked when she was terrified. He wanted her to know that he had the power to end her life.

“I’m leaving you,” she said, through chattering teeth. He’d never hurt her in public before. But, then again, she’d never tried leaving him before.

“I warned you!” It was a shout of rage that carried across the parking lot.

Benevolence was a town of good people who worked hard and cared about their neighbors. He was a stain on them all and proud of it. But there was no one here to help her. It was her against him. Until the police that Sophie probably—dear God, please—called. She just needed to hang in there for a few minutes.

Gloria shoved against his chest with all her strength, but his meaty fists closed around her arms, shaking her until the back of her head hit the truck window. With a bleak realization, she knew she didn’t have minutes.

“Hey!” She heard a voice snap through the air. A woman. Blonde hair.

But Glenn was obstructing her view. “Mind your own business, nosy whore.”

“Glenn—” Gloria gasped.

“I’m sick of hearing it!” he said. His face was fire-engine-red with rage. He gripped her by the throat, lifting her off her feet.

Her air was cut off. She felt the pressure build in her head, watched the black creep in on the edges of her vision. Her feet swung uselessly, inches from the ground. It couldn’t end this way. Her life couldn’t stop at his brutish hands. She wouldn’t be just another sad statistic.

Weakly she reached for the hand around her throat. Everything was starting to go gray as her lungs screamed for oxygen.