11
Rage
Alvin, Texas
Peyton sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. Her breathing was out of control and her heart rate erratic. She screamed into the tears that poured down her face. The nightmare, it was the nightmare. It was all so terrible. In the dream, Peyton had been catapulted back into that dark, horrific night when it happened.
The Lincoln Killers biker gang had nearly killed her that night. She could have died from the concussion alone. But that was something she didn’t remember. It had been before they’d smashed her on the head with a bottle of Jim Beam that they'd choked her unconscious.
She couldn’t breathe. The crushing forearm wrapped around her neck wrenched tighter and tighter, pinching off the blood supply to her brain and her windpipe. Now, in her own bedroom, she gasped
