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“I did tell you. No one.”

Another hit. This time I taste blood in my mouth.

“You’ve got spunk, I’ll give you that,” Psycho snorts. “Thought all Hound women were bitches and cunts. Never expected one to actually take a few hits without crying to go home. They might actually have a good one on their hands after all. Maybe we should try you out before we give you back.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. I laugh long and hard, then laugh some more when they just look at one another like I’m the crazy one. Which just makes this all funnier.

I sober enough to shake my head at them as I look down at the sad state I’m in. Bloody and tied to a chair for no good goddamn reason.

“Think that scares me? Think any of this scares me?” My voice rises and softens like the crazy woman I am, apparently. I look at each of them, not that I expect them to answer. They’re the type who probably never answer a woman’s question.

“I’m dead if the Hounds don’t claim me, right? That’s your play, huh? Well, joke’s on you. You picked the wrong girl. The Hounds don’t care about me. They don’t give a shit about me, no matter what you think you saw. You’re going to kill me? Well, do yourself a favor and don’t wait.”

“Morbid bitch, ain’t she,” Cameraman says.

“At least she knows the play,” Demon mutters. I almost think he’s upset that I’m not crying in the corner.

Psycho gets close, kneels down enough that his face is inches from mine. “My sister died because of the fucking Hounds. They kept her locked up for months. Killed her and left her on the cold-ass floor as if she was nothing. You think I care if the Hounds like you, cunt?”

I tilt my head. I thought I knew the Hounds enough to think they wouldn’t do that, but what the fuck do I know. Nothing, it seems.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry. A Hounds woman is sorry. Now that’s a laugh.”

I shake my head because these idiots aren’t getting it. “No, what’s funny is that you keep thinking I’m part of the club. I was walking away. Away. Did you see anyone coming after me? Did you see anyone shout out when you grabbed me? No. Because they. Don’t. Fucking. Care.”

Psycho stands, his face growing red as he breathes through his nose. “Start talking.”

“Or what? Are you going to cut me? Pull off my fingernails? Rape me?” I snort and shake my head as I look at them all again. “Had it all done before. I survived. I’ll do it again. Do your worst.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I see my life playing out against my eyelids. Just this, over and over. One kidnapping after the next. And I’m tired of it.

“Actually, kill me. Just get it over with.” I open my eyes and see them looking at me, but no one is moving to end me. “Kill me! Do it!” I scream hard enough that tears roll down my face. Not from fear, but from exertion.

“Bitch is certifiable,” the jumpy one says, amazingly without moving an inch. “Can I keep her?” He looks at Psycho, confirming he’s the one in charge.

But Psycho just shakes his head. Denying him or pitying me, I don’t know.

“How many times have you been taken?”

I don’t answer Psycho. No point.

Demon didn’t get the message, though. His hand darts out and grabs my hair, pulling it back and forcing my face up to the ceiling to be filled by his surprisingly-not-ugly mug. “He asked you a question.”

He lets go of my hair with an extra smack to the back of my head. I glare at him but keep my face down like a good little hostage.

“Three times.” I look up and lock eyes with Psycho. “Not including this one.”

“Lies,” Demon hisses behind me, and I turn to look at him.

“You keep saying that. Why the fuck would I lie?”

“Prove it.” He juts out his chin, daring me.

I turn back around. “Don’t gotta prove shit to you,” I huff, seeing the camera light is still on and the damn phone is still on me. I look directly at whoever the fuck is going to watch this. “But when do I ever get what I want?”

I kick off my left shoe and move my foot around enough till my sock comes off.

“Fuck,” Cameraman says, but he still gets real close to record my lack of toe.