His grandpa said something about Knox finally joining them, but this basement, it doesn’t look new. Knox moves around here like he’s lived here his whole life.
They’re all liars. All murderers.
Knox included.
No. No. Something doesn’t add up.
He’s too warm with me. Too affectionate for it to be rehearsed. Sure, brutality and dominance hang on every move he makes…
But.
It feels like he genuinely cherishes me, in his own strange, convoluted way.
Or maybe I’m just delusional.
Maybe I’m a fool for thinking he’d spare my life.
Terror clutches my lungs, almost pushing a scream out of me. I bite my cheek until blood floods my mouth, shutting down every trace of weakness.
Surrendering to your emotions makes you weak. I can do better. I will.
If I could just silence this insistent voice, the one whispering how Knox wants me alive.
It’s insane. It’s wishful thinking.
I’m going to die here.
“Let me down,” I shout, but the only response I get is his muscles flexing beneath my fists. “Why are you doing this? Why won’t you talk to me? Let me down!”
Without warning, he drops me to my feet. I gasp as his fingers tangle in my hair and yank so I’m staring right at him.
“That’s better.” The hazel eyes behind his mask burn, pinning me with fire.
“What is?”
Knox flips me around and wraps his free arm around my waist. His hand returns to my hair, and the rough pull stings at my scalp. Steals the breath from my lungs.
“You, Skylar. Screaming. Making it believable. That’s fucking better.”
“I’m not doing this for you.” Fear and fury pound in my head. “I’m not performing.”
“Fine by me.” Tugging on my hair, he twists my head, forcing me to look at the rest of the basement, at all the ways he can torture me. “As long as you scream.”
I almost do it again when I gag violently. This—the three hooks dangling from the ceiling…he’s going to hang me here. Going to watch me bleed out into one of the three tin buckets waiting beneath them.
Fuck, I won’t picture blood dripping into them.
I won’t.
Then he tilts my head again, urging me to keep looking around and?—
I wish he didn’t. What I see around this basement, knowing what I know, suspecting what I do…
I choke. Can’t breathe when I see all the tanning equipment. Just like in the exhibits.
There’s a wooden beam. A salting wall, empty of stretched hide. Liming barrels are lined up in a neat row.
Only here, it isn’t clean.
