Hellhounds

Amber shivered, feeling Michael's cold breath on her face. She tried to look away, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. His eyes were dark and cruel, his smile was twisted and wicked. He stroked her hair, her cheek, her neck, making her flinch and whimper.

She felt his fingers tighten around her throat, cutting off her air. She gasped, struggling to breathe. She felt tears streaming down her face, burning her skin. She felt helpless, hopeless, terrified. She wished John would come and save her. She wished she could see him one last time. She wished she could tell him how grateful she really was.

As if her prayers were answered, the sound of glass shattering reached her ears and her heart leapt as a tall man with black hair and weathered skin rushed in and grabbed Michael by the back of his neck.

Amber recognized his scent and couldn't help smiling. She had no idea he'd be here. Her eyes widened as John drew Michael in.