Goddamn it.
He moves to the corner of the room. I watch Sabine eye the knife on the table, her jaw tight. She glances over her shoulder to see what he’s doing, but before she can lift a finger, he whirls around.
He’s faster than he looks.
The way he crosses the room is abrupt. Unnatural. His hand slams down beside the knife, not on it, but close enough to make Sabine freeze mid-breath. His fingers flex once on the lace tablecloth. His voice shifts. It’s soft, breathy, and completely fucking unstable.
“Were you going to touch it?” he asks, head tilted like a crow listening for footsteps in the snow.
Sabine doesn’t answer.
My pulse feels like it’s trying to crawl out of my throat.
“I don’t mind if you’re curious,” he says. “You’re allowed to be. That’s what tonight is about, after all. Curiosity. Exploration.” He gestures vaguely between them.
I have to look away to keep from throwing up.
“But don’t be bad, alright?” A pause. “How about you dance with me?”
He says it like a request, but there’s no mistaking the command beneath it.
I look back at them.
She nods once.
I want to scream.
But she stands.
He takes her hand, and I can see her flinch at the coldness of his skin. He draws her to the center of the room, where incense mixes with the stink of rot in the walls and the music murmurs from the stereo.
He hums the lines softly, dragging her into a slow, delicate sway. The song is about eternal love, even after beauty fades and age sets in.
It’s a nightmare.
But then he spins her—too hard. She stumbles and crashes into the wall, and my body jerks so violently I nearly give myself away.
That’s when the real horror begins.
Because it’s not just a wall he’s thrown her against. It’s the knife target.
He dragged her to it.
The bloodied bullseye.
The red heart.
No, no, no. Not yet. Not yet, for fuck’s sake!
Her back hits the center of the circle. Her breath catches. She starts to fight then, trying to push him off. And somewhere in her struggling, I scream her name.
But it ends in a blink.
He locks her to the board with metal cuffs at each limb, spreading her like an offering.
Her wrists and ankles snap into place with sharp clicks. I hadn't seen the manacles before. I should have.
She gasps. Pulls against them. They don’t budge.
