I was adept at fighting men who were larger than me. Since just about every man was bigger than me.

But this body behind me was a tank.

He was easily twice my width, with an arm that was about as big as one of my thighs.

With my arms pinned against my body, I couldn’t use the damn knife that was cutting into my palm to defend myself.

I tried flailing my legs, kicking in the air, trying to throw him off balance.

But it was like trying to move a brick wall.

“Who do we have here?” he asked in my ear as he walked inward, away from the door.

It seemed to take no effort at all for him to carry me along with him.

My gaze scanned around the room, noting all the tools that Gav and his crew had left around: hammers, mallets, screwdrivers. All great weapons if I could just break away and get to them.

I was held just a little too low to be able to use my head to whack his nose or chin. I couldn’t get my leg up high enough to kick him in the balls.

That left me with one weapon I could utilize.

I squirmed and wiggled until I got just low enough to lean down and sink my teeth into the guy’s arm.

“Fuck!” he roared, dropping me suddenly.

I slammed down on my knees, pain ricocheting up my thighs and hips. But there was no time to let myself feel it.

I scrambled up, my eye on one of the hammers.

I had my knife tucked in my palm, but when it came to fighting off a much bigger target, blunt was going to trump sharp every time. Especially when it was just a tiny little knife. I was more likely to break off the blade in this meaty guy’s arm than actually be useful.

I was smaller, scrappy, and quick.

But each two of my steps was only one of his.

He grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking back so hard that I saw white.

“Who are you?” he asked, dragging me backward by my hair.

“Fuck you.”

“How do you know Soren?”

Soren.

Did this guy know Soren?

If so, how?

What was my move here?

Did I lie?

Stall?

But stall for what? No one was coming.

If what he wanted was information, at least I could use that to try to catch him off-guard enough to get free again, to get to a weapon, or even just get away.

I was in my neighborhood.

Once I got on the street, I could get away. Or find someone belonging to one of the crew to help me.

“How do you know Soren?” the man snapped again, yanking my hair harder.

I exhaled hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out in pain.

“I’m working with him.”