Ritter makes his move early

"Let's search the restaurants," you say. "They might have missed something."

You point to a the row of restaurants on the opposite side of the food court. Ritter takes the cue and walks over. You turn to the nearest restaurant and poke through the tight kitchen space. There is debris everywhere, papers and empty food containers. It stinks of rotting vegetables and meat. The dead refrigerator yields a pile of moldy and inedible food.

You step into the dark walk-in dry goods closet. Most of the boxes have been overturned and their contents taken, but there are a few cans rolling around on the floor.

You crouch down and pick up a can. As you rise an arm slides smoothly across your throat and pulls you tightly against a muscled chest. The tip of a knife prods your cheek.

"Don't try it, bitch," Ritter hisses as your hand reaches for your gun. "I'll stick this thing in your eye."

"Don't be an idiot, Ritter," you say. "This is the last mis-"

He tightens his hold on your throat and you can barely breathe, let alone talk.

"I think I've got the cunt who thinks she's in charge right where I want her," he laughs cruelly. "You know what else I want?"

"Nnngg," you **** and he relaxes his hold slightly. "What do you want, Ritter?"

"Your sweet pussy," he says, drawing the tip of the knife down your cheek. "I saw the way you looked at Jake. Those big blue eyes of yours. You want that Marine dick in your little stuck-up pussy, don't you?"

"Fuck you," you spit.

"Mmmmm," he presses his lips to the back of your ear, "that's the idea. Are you gonna make this easy or are you gonna make this rough?"

He licks your ear slowly.

"I like rough," he adds.