Annoyed that he kept feeling himself drift toward giving her the benefit of the doubt just because she had a pretty face and an attractive body, Blade stepped closer. He’d hung her just far enough off the ground that her feet couldn’t take any of her weight, given their size difference, he was six three, she had to be around five two or three, their faces were about even.
Lifting the glass like he was going to bring it to her lips, she was already opening her mouth when he tangled a hand in her hair and yanked hard, tilting her face back so she was staring at the sky. Then he poured the water directly down her nose, making her choke and cry out as she attempted to jerk out of his hold.
Not that he let her.
He kept her there, the water pouring down her nose, enjoying knowing that it was causing her pain. If she thought her big innocent eyes were going to save her, she was stupid as well as evil.
When the glass was empty, he hurled it against the nearest tree, making the woman let out a shrill shriek even as she continued to choke on the water that he’d poured down hernose and had trickled down into her throat. Then he turned and stalked back toward the house. This woman wasn't an innocent, even if a part of him wanted her to be, and it was time to get his head on straight and into the game.
January 11th
4:48 P.M.
Numb.
That’s what Whitney felt.
Not just physically numb from the cold, it was only by some miracle that the man she was sure was Blade had come after her on a slightly milder day of weather, otherwise, she was pretty sure she would be dead from hypothermia already, but psychologically as well.
It had been stupid to think that she could escape the consequences of her actions.
Stupid to think that she deserved freedom after she’d inadvertently doomed dozens of men and women to death.
Just because she hadn't known what was going to happen when she first created that drug didn't absolve her of responsibility. If anything, she should be held more responsible because she should have known, should have seen, should have figured it out.
But she hadn't.
And people had died because of her negligence.
She deserved this. Deserved hanging by arms that had long ago lost all feeling, deserved the screaming pain in her shoulders that she could somewhat ignore if she stayed completely still. Deserved to be wearing her clothes, now stained with her ownwaste, because nobody could hold on indefinitely. Deserved the clawing hunger in her stomach and the need for water, even as her nose still stung from Blade’s earlier game.
Deserved whatever was coming next as well.
There was no lingering hope that she could withstand whatever torture was coming. Not that there ever really had been any. She was an intellectual, she didn't have the skills to compartmentalize or withstand pain. She knew how to solve problems, look for mistakes and try to find solutions, and spend hours in a lab playing around with different formulas.
Not this.
Never this.
So, when the face in the farmhouse window disappeared, she didn't know whether to rejoice that Blade was no longer staring at her, something he’d spent most of the day doing, or despair because it likely meant he was coming out there to do … something awful to her.
How was she supposed to predict his behavior? Predicting patterns in scientific equations was one thing, it was what she loved doing, what had first drawn her to create the drug, or at least the original version of it, in the first place. But she knew nothing about the techniques used to break someone, not that Blade was going to have to work too hard when it came to breaking her.
Feeling like she was left hanging—and how she was able to make that joke, she had no idea—the seconds ticked by with an excruciating slowness, only to eventually reveal that she wasn't going to have to wait much longer to get another lesson in torture.
The front door to the farmhouse opened, and Blade came strolling out. He had something in his hand, well, two things, the knife he seemed to love, and something else. Something thatonly became clear when he crossed the small clearing to the tree where he’d strung her up.
As soon as she realized what he was carrying, her heart stuttered in her chest.
Not having any knowledge of torture didn't make her stupid.
Her nose was still stinging from the water poured down it earlier, and whatever pain the water had caused would be nothing if he shook up that can of soda in his hand and held it to her nose. That would be excruciating.
Open your mouth and tell him what he wants to know.
Beg for mercy.
Ask him to understand that you didn't have a choice, you were dragged into this whole thing against your will.
