My Stockholm Syndrome

My Stockholm Syndrome
Автор книги: id книги: 2704152     Оценка: 0.0     Голосов: 0     Отзывы, комментарии: 0 349 руб.     (3,41$) Читать книгу Купить и скачать книгу Купить бумажную книгу Электронная книга Жанр: Правообладатель и/или издательство: Автор Дата публикации, год издания: 2023 Дата добавления в каталог КнигаЛит: Скачать фрагмент в формате   fb2   fb2.zip Возрастное ограничение: 18+ Оглавление Отрывок из книги

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Описание книги

When she went on a reality game show, Selina could not have imagined that the show would be just a cover for a dangerous attraction for the rich: man-hunting. The rules are brutal and there are no winners in the game. She manages to survive… only her fate isn’t much better than death.

Оглавление

Бекки Чейз. My Stockholm Syndrome

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

Bonus chapters

Flight to Thailand

First day in Bangkok

Dreary everyday life

Newbie

The bar

Vasectomy

Отрывок из книги

Gasping for breath, I raced through the woods, weaving through the trees. My heart was pounding frantically as if it was going to explode. Wet branches whipped my cheeks but I ignored them, dashing through the brush. I didn't even realize it was raining and that the grass was wet until I ran into the clearing and fell down. The camera on the pole in the middle of the clearing slowly turned in my direction. Another, on a special crane, came down to get a close-up of my face. I was tempted to give the invisible viewer the middle finger, but it could have cost me my life. This was not the time to play Katniss Everdeen. Not wasting valuable seconds, I jumped up and ran again.

In three days I had explored the area only partially: I barely remembered this sector of the forest. I hesitated at the fork in the trail and turned to the left. I almost fell into the hole of a wolf trap: slowing down sharply, I slipped on the wet ground and fell, inertia dragging me forward. The distance was enough for my legs to overbalance, pulling me into the trap. Imagining the sharpened stakes below, I grabbed at everything within reach and hung on the edge. I tried to get out by pressing my toes into the trap walls, but the rain was making my shoes slip. There was a scream in the distance, interrupted by a gunshot. I pulled myself up again, whimpering in pain: two fingernails were broken and splinters were stuck under the rest of them. ′′Think positive,′′ I was trying to urge myself on. A shot means a hunter, and a scream means death. And that death means that at least one more killer's daily limit is exhausted. It really doesn't take much in this life to become a cynic. Just three days of running through the woods from armed degenerates eager to kill you. Another push and I climbed out of the trap for good, falling on my back with a sigh of relief. I was alive. But the smile was immediately wiped off my lips by the crackling of a broken branch: they were close. The hunters' footsteps were barely audible, but I knew he was among them. He was following me, raising goosebumps all over my skin. I have felt his presence since the first day of the hunt. And here it was again, the quintessence of danger and fear…

.....

Now it was my turn to recoil. I furtively checked for my bracelet. It was still on my wrist. The guards were already running towards me from the pavilion.

′′Miss, are you all right? Did she scare you?′′ One of them asked me politely in English.

.....

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