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I chew on the inside of my cheek until a coppery metal tang hits my mouth. I landed on my broken hand, and agonizing pain shoots through my entire arm and into my neck, causing my vision to blur. I bite my cheek harder to fight off the agony.

I’ll take it that he didn’t find the cabin.

I glare up at him, my hair falling in my face. “I didn’t lie to you. It’s well hidden; I warned you about that.”

Nigel kicks me in the ribs, quickly reminding me that I am his captive, that he is the one in control right now, and that I need to potentially watch my mouth.

“London. London. London… You’re not making yourself very useful to me right now.” The moment his boot connects with my wrist, a scream erupts from me, the sheer agony impossible to suppress.

“I will continue to torture you until you tell me where the fuck your hideout is.”

“You can go to hell, Nigel. If you haven’t found it by now, you won’t.”

He quirks his head and kneels so he’s somewhat at eye level with me.

The madness inside him is apparent in his eyes.

He’s gone. Any part of him that was good, pure, or innocent has disappeared.

“No, London,” he says darkly, “but you can.”

The light reflects off the blade he’s holding, which flashes for a second before he presses the dull blade of the ice skate against my neck. I scramble for a second before my body goes limp beneath him and my eyes roll back in my head. He is on top of me, pressing his knee into my chest and crushing my lungs. Tears well up in my eyes from the sheer amount of pain I’m in.

Ezra stands behind him, and my vision is blurred, but I can tell he’s doing nothing to stop Nigel. In a last desperate attempt, I seek Ezra’s eyes, giving him a silent plea as all the blood rushes to my head.

Nigel positions himself between us. “This skate is sharp, London. It was Micah’s first spear he made from his hockey gear. Poetic, isn’t it?” He leans down, his spit hitting my cheek. “If I press down even an inch harder, I will sever the artery in your neck, and you will die. Is that what you want?”

I can’t respond because I can’t breathe.

“And if you don’t know where the hell that cabin is, then I doubt your usefulness to me.”

“Just fucking tell us, London.” Ezra’s voice is distant, like he’s speaking through a tunnel. Distant but desperate. Surviving seems to have taken priority for him. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

Ezra and I were sitting in glorious silence for the past few hours, and he didn’t put his hands on me once. He even tossed dried food at me, saying nothing, of course, but the gesture told me enough. He’s not a monster; he’s just hungry.

At least he’s not a monster yet.

And that little piece of food sufficed to stop the gnawing feeling in my stomach.

My heart beats so fast now, and I close my eyes, waiting for Nigel to end it. His face is not the last thing I want to see.

“Stop it, man. You’re killing her. She’s the only leverage we have,” Ezra finally says. “If you kill her, we’ll never find him.”

Nothing… I feel nothing as Nigel presses that skate into my neck, crushing me, mutilating me.

No fear, no pain.

I’m numb.

Because I think I’m already dead inside, immune to Nigel’s blind rage.

And then… it ends. Nigel releases the pressure on me, removing the blade from my throat. My body convulses as I suck in a breath, choking on it. My vision returns, but I don’t dare to move. I keep my eyes closed, my cheek lying in the pool of dried blood beneath me.

Ezra pulls me up, and I crawl back into my seat and face them. Nigel composes himself and stands with his arms crossed. His smile comes straight from hell.

“Good point,” he says, wiping the blood off the blade on his shirt.

My blood.