I couldn’t breathe.
Not a little. Not at all.
Cameron’s hand tightened around my throat, fingers digging into my skin like he wanted to crush every last bit of air out of me. My vision blurred at the edges, the room spinning in sharp, painful circles. His face was inches from mine, twisted, angry, murderous.
“You think you can threaten me?” he hissed.
I clawed at his wrist, nails scraping his skin, but his grip only tightened. A choking sound escaped my throat. I tried to swallow, tried to speak, tried to do anything, but nothing came out.
I hit his arm. I hit his hand. My chest burned. My lungs screamed. Black spots splattered across my vision.
“Stop…” I gasped. The word barely formed. “Cameron—stop—”
But he didn’t.
He pushed me backward until my spine slammed into the couch. The
