The world exploded in a series of bright colors, and the only thing that kept her from sliding to the ground was the man's hands on her. The scratch of bricks against a velveteen cheekbone, and knuckles in her hair that wrenched her head back to abide the steady press of a knife. James wisely stopped fighting, growing numb and lax with the cool metal quivering against her rapidfire pulse.
They were speaking to her, and she had no idea what they were saying. Useless words like Giancomas and heiress. James didn't understand, and while she might have yelled and cursed and pleaded her ignorance.. she heard the whimper of Ella meeting the alley wall in a rough glimpse of brutality. James held her tongue and closed her eyes. The knife was knicking the skin of her neck, and James felt a cold, thin trail of blood when she nodded her head in silent appeasement.