My eyes flutter open, my mouth drier than waking up after a three-day bender.
The pounding in my head makes my vision blurry. I blink a few times and take in my surroundings. Plain gray walls with only a metal cart in the corner. I suck in a breath, spotting the blood stains etched into the white-tiled floors.
“Shit.” I pull against the ropes on my wrists, binding me to the wooden chair.
As I look up at the door, I spot a red dot flashing.
A camera.
I take a moment to look at my arms–not a single scratch. I pull against the restraints again and try the ones around my ankles. I let out a defeated sigh when they don’t budge.
The door squeaks open. It’s not the guy from the club, Luca.
No, this guy is far younger, kind of eastern European looking. His gaze is fixed on me.
Batting my lashes at him, I put on the sweetest voice I can muster. “Please, could you untie me? I need to use the bathroom.”
He doesn’t respond, just grins and crouches next to me.
A chill runs through me, and I swallow down bile as he traces his index finger along my bare calf.
I’d rather he shot me between the eyes than touch me.
“You are a beauty,” he whispers, sliding his palm up my slender legs.
My heart is lodged in my throat as he trails his finger past my kneecap. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Please no.
If I’ve survived this long, I can do it again. I repeat this mantra to myself over and over.
I know I’m lying to myself.
His face will just merge with Dante’s in my nightmares.
A bang makes him jump, and he scoots back.
I turn my face away from him. He doesn’t get to see me. To know my fear, men like him thrive off it.
“I’ll be back for you,” he says as he stands. His tongue darts out to move over his lower lip.
Chills run down my spine, his heavy footsteps followed by the door slamming closed.
I was taken from one hell into another.
