“It’s not her.”
I lift my head, noticing he’s the only one who hasn’t turned away from the screen.
“What?” I ask. “That’s her voice. I’d recognize it anywhere. That’s her screaming,” I tell him.
He gives a subtle nod of his head. “That may be her voice, but it’s not Savanna on the bed. Look.”
He points at the screen, and I force my legs to move. Walking around the island, I look at where he’s pointing, trying like hell to not notice the way Cupid is still thrusting into the poor woman on the bed, the woman who I’d thought was Savanna.
“Those are her clothes,” I say.
“You’re seeing what he wants you to see,” Sasha says, the only one of us who’s still calm enough to scrutinize what’s going on. “Look closer.”
We all try to scoot in, and I push aside my fear and rage and the guilt I feel as I slowly run my eyes over the woman, noticing the slight discrepancies I hadn’t paid attention to earlier. Savanna’s hair isn’t quite as long as this woman’s and it’s a few shades lighter. The image isn’t clear enough for me to see every detail, but I know Savanna’s body well enough to know things aren’t adding up. The hands are slightly different, and as much as it makes me feel guilty to study this poor woman’s body while she’s being raped, there’s no denying that everything is a little off, from the slope of her lower back, to the lines of her hips, the curve of her ass—none of it is familiar to me. It’s not the body I’ve spent all weekend worshipping. He’s also being very careful to keep her face angled away from the camera so I can’t see it, and he’s only showing me as much skin as he has to.
I let out a relieved breath, even as I feel guilty for it, because whoever this woman is, she doesn’t deserve this. There’s no way for me to not feel grateful that it’s not Savanna, though. My legs finally give out as I sink back down onto the barstool.
“You’re right,” I say. “It’s not her.” I hear Savanna’s ragged sob through the speakers. “It’s her voice, though. I’m certain of that.”
“What if she’s there but not in view of the camera?” Mia asks, and I can tell by her voice that she’s having a hard time watching what’s on the screen. “Cupid knew you’d assume it was Sav, and he knew she’d scream when she saw what he was doing. She’s there, but she’s not the girl on the bed.”
“Not yet,” I say, knowing I have to find her before it is.
Chapter 18
Savanna
Iscream until my voice is hoarse, and then I sob, my whole body shaking and heaving as I watch what’s happening to the poor girl Cupid brought in. She’s silent, but only because he put duct tape over her mouth before he chained me to the wall. My wrists are bloody from struggling against the tight, metal cuffs, and when I see his hips stutter and then hear the deep groan from across the room, I close my eyes and force myself to not get sick.
I know he’s doing this as a threat. He’d come in and asked me to kiss him. When I’d refused, he’d left and come back with a woman. She’d looked terrified. Her shirt and pants matched mine, and our hair is almost the same, but I’m not sure why. I’ve looked over every inch of this room, and I can’t see any cameras. The only thing I can think of is that he’s making it obvious I’m the one who should be on the bed. It’s a threat, and it’s terrifying.
By the time I hear Cupid zip up his pants, I’m slumped against the wall, too numb to do much of anything except stare at the floor. I hear a muffled whimper, and guilt hits me hard. This happened because I refused to give him what he wanted. I know what this monster does is not my fault, but it’s hard to remember that when I’ve just seen him brutalize a woman lessthan ten feet from where I’m chained to the wall. Whether it’s true or not, it still feels like my fault. She took a punishment that was meant for me, and I’ll never be able to take that from her. I’ll never be able to fix this.
I keep my eyes down as he drags her from the room, too much of a coward to face her. I feel empty, completely hollowed out, and when I hear the door shut behind me, I welcome the seclusion. My wrists throb, my backside hurts from the hard cement floor, and my head still aches from earlier, but I barely feel any of it. I’m not sure how long he makes me wait. I’ve learned that time is impossible to keep track of without a watch or a window. Sometimes I think it’s only been a couple of hours, and other times I convince myself I’m already into the second day.
When I hear the door open again, I keep my head down, not wanting to see what new nightmare he has planned for me. His brown shoes come into view, and when I still don’t move, he squats down and hooks a finger under my chin, forcing my face up to meet his. His blue eyes look amused as he takes in the sight of my swollen eyes and tear-streaked cheeks.
“I want you to know that I was imagining it was you.” He leans in closer and I pull back, hitting my head against the wall with a grunt of pain. His smile makes me feel sick to my stomach. “She was a sad substitute, but I’ve been fucking women and imagining they’re you for over a year now. To be honest, I’m getting tired of it, Savanna. I want the real thing, and my patience is wearing thin.”
“Why do you care?” I ask. “Why does it matter when you’re just going to take what you want anyway?” My eyes briefly flick to the mattress while my chest aches at the thought of being the one held down on it.
His soft laugh pulls my attention back to him. “Because I’ll enjoy it more. I want you to put on a show for me, and I want youto make it believable. I could fuck you right now if I wanted to, Savanna, we both know that, but that’s not what I want.”
I recoil from his touch, but all it does is make him dig his fingers in harder, holding me still as he leans closer.
“You’re going to give me one of those big, pretty smiles of yours, and you’re going to kiss me like you fucking mean it, and then you’re going to ride my dick like it’s the best goddamn thing you’ve ever felt. That’s what I want, and that’s what I’m going to get. It’s up to you how many other women get fucked in the process.”
“You can’t put that on me,” I say, feeling the panic rise up my chest. “That’s not fair. You’re the monster, not me.”
He grins and smacks my cheek hard enough to hurt. “You keep telling yourself that, but you could’ve stopped what just happened with a single word. You chose not to.” He looks back at the bed. “I wonder if you’ll be able to sleep tonight, or if you’ll keep hearing the sounds of me fucking that girl, knowing that it’ll soon be you.”
“Raping,” I say. “Call it what it is.”
He shrugs. “I don’t give a fuck what you call it as long as you give me one of your sweet smiles while I do it.”
“You’re sick. I can’t believe I never noticed how vile you are.”
“Don’t beat yourself up too much. No one knows who I really am.”
