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Darting around a corner, I press my back to the wall, my dress sticking to my skin as I heave in breaths. I lick the sweat off my upper lip and reach into my dress, unsheathing a knife I have no idea how to use.

“Place your thumb at the bottom, okay? That way you’re less likely to let it slip and cut yourself.”

“Thumb at the bottom,” I whisper to myself, my hands trembling as I grip the handle.

“Stab and don’t stop.”

I close my eyes and nod as if Cole is beside me, reminding me of the painfully short lesson he gave me earlier.

“This is what I get for having sex and not studying,” I whisper.

“Suuunndddaayyyyy…” Darcy sings. “Where for art thou, my Sunday? I just want to braid your hair.”

A low, manly chuckle has me opening my eyes. “You’re fucked up, you know that?”

Darcy giggles, and the sound will forever haunt my nightmares. Although my forever might only be the next few minutes.

A crash sounds from the direction of the dining room, and I pray that Cole is fighting. He took down twelve men once. Maybe he’ll be okay.

I tiptoe down the hall, quietly testing doors until one opens. It’s a sitting room, intimate and decorated in reds and browns. Two leather couches face each other, parted by a single coffee table, a fireplace on the far side of the room.

“Where the fuck is she?” Darcy demands.

Sheathing the knife again, I rush for the fireplace, snatching up a poker just as the door reopens. I don’t allow myself time to second guess the damage I’m about to do, or how I’ll feel about it after—I stride forward, swinging the metal poker into Christian’s face. The impact makes my bones shudder, and I drop the weapon, stepping back as blood bursts from his cheek.

“Bitch!” He lunges for me and I stumble as he falls past me and into the coffee table. I pick up the poker and sprint out of the room, Darcy’s calls hot on my heels as I half-stumble down hallways.

I’m lost. Totally and utterly lost. Nothing looks familiar, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up back at the dining room. Darcy is clearly getting impatient and screams my name. When I spot a door at the end of another hallway, I almost throw myself into it. It opens, and I pant as I take in the room.

A garage.

And the bike. Cage’s initiation gift.

Three concrete steps lead into the enormous room. Keys. If I find the keys, I can get out of here. Eventually I’ll stumble upon a town or somebody who can help.

Industrial shelving units line part of the garage wall, and I rummage through the drawers, shoving aside tools, screws, receipts…

“Oh,” I cry out, a smile breaking across my face as I find the key, the brand’s logo pressed into the new leather. I turn⁠—

Pain.

White-hot pain.

My vision blurs, my ears screech, and I hit the ground, the key skidding across the floor. Blood fills my mouth, and I roll onto my back, the garage lights burrowing into my brain.

“God, I hate this bitch,” Christian pants.

His voice dips in and out, and I groan, shifting onto my front as I try to get to my feet. Christian grabs my hair and yanks me back, throwing me against a workbench.

He kicks my ribs and I cry out as my body slams into the garage floor.

“You found her!” Darcy cheers.

“I certainly fucking did.” Christian stands over me, his figure doubling as I shield my eyes from the light. “What should we do with her?”

“Firstly, take off that dress. It’s mine,” Darcy says, her voice closer. “Then open her pretty thighs. I want her to already be screaming when I cut into her.”

“My fucking pleasure.”