Harley’s P.O.V.

The iron grip was so strong that I couldn’t even thrash properly. My scream was smothered against the rough palm, my breath hot and trapped. My nails dug desperately in the arm across my throat, but it didn’t budge.

My heart thundered in my ears, but I forced my mind to focus. In this strange place, I had to save myself, so I repeated all the instructions of my self-defense teacher in my mind.

With a sharp twist, I caught the wrist that was crushing my mouth and shoved it down hard. My other hand shot up, clawing at the forearm around my neck until I had enough...