A hand snaked over Miranda Winters’ shoulder and grabbed her roughly from behind. She cringed as the strong fingers, smelling heavily of nicotine, slammed painfully across her mouth. She tasted her own blood as her teeth cut into her lip. She tried to scream, managing only a muffled, garbled cry. Immediately she regretted the effort, as the hand tightened even further across the lower half of her face.
A second strong arm encircled her waist pinning her arms in front of her, then yanked her backwards. Her backward momentum was suddenly halted as she crashed into the chest of someone behind her. She felt the hot, foul smelling breath against her cheek. In an instant, her feet left the ground, and she felt herself carried backwards. Palpable fear, gripped her tighter than the arms embracing
