Betrayal slithers around my chest and squeezes.
I watch through streams of golden hair as Griff traces every movement, every woman’s hand on my skin. His eyes darken with each second, and soon they’re bottomless pits sucking in the view.
My body stiffens when Raife stands. He vanishes from sight as the bubbly blonde with a burn appears inches from my face. A soft smile lifts her pink lips, and she runs her fingers down my cheek.
“It’s okay,” she coos. “We’re just here to relax you.”
I jump as something cold skims my left palm. Lifting my chin, I turn my head, trying to see past all the hair and bodies. When my gaze lands on the instrument above my hand, my throat goes dry.
A scalpel.
I glance at Raife, who watches me as he takes it away and carefully lines silver instruments side by side on a nightstand right beside the bed.
Scalpel. Scissors. Saw. Clamp. Forceps. Other things I don’t know the names of. Lastly, a knife.
My breath comes out ragged, fear spiking my voice. “Wh-what are you d-doing?”
He leans toward me, pushing someone else’s hair from my face as he does. “Don’t you remember?” His lips touch my ear, and I tremble. “Show and tell. Now smile. You’re on camera.”
He moves back slightly and locks his gaze on mine. Deadly anticipation stirs in his eyes, something that tells me he’s just getting started.
I don’t think I’m ready for Act Two.
