“Gentlemen,” Milton greets a group of men gathered around the bar wearing tuxedos. They all nod in a polite reply as we pass them, but their eyes don’t linger for more than a few seconds. Almost as if it would be impolite to do so. Or foolish.
The chatter continues behind us as he takes me down a quieter corridor, stopping outside another door. When these open, all I see is red. My eyes strain against the harsh ruby glare. Lights that reflect off the white walls, the contrast, unlike anything I’ve ever encountered.
As my eyes adjust, I peer apprehensively at stairs that lead down. I know better than to ask questions, but they sit heavily on my tongue. Any minute they’re going to slip down my throat and strangle me.
The door automatically slams shut behind me, and I can’t take it any longer. As Milton goes to grab me again, I step away from him. “No.” Sweat dampens the back of my neck, knowing there’s danger waiting for me down there. What else would there be? “What the hell do you want from me?”
“Now that…” He takes a step closer, and my back hits the door. I wait for him to touch me. Hurt me. It doesn’t happen. The fucker does nothing. “Is the best question you’ve asked me all night. And all will be revealed if you shut up and keep moving.”
Grabbing my hand, he forcibly pulls me down the stairs. I try not to trip over my feet as panic grips me. Once we reach the bottom, I don’t like the look of the long, windowless hallway ahead. Something that seems completely endless.
Appearing devilish in the red light with splatters of blood on the front of his shirt, Milton’s hand wraps around my waist again. Taking me deeper into what my brain can’t stop calling a modern-day Hell.
Every so often, we pass a black door but don’t go into any of them. Unease churns my stomach. He’s dragging this out too long. I even expect Blake to open one of those doors, arms wide open and signature evil smile in place.
Let’s go home, Heidi, baby.
But the doors remain shut, and we keep walking. As my thoughts pick away at everything that’s happened so far , nothing has made sense. This isn’t for Blake. Milton’s doing this for himself, and I think that terrifies me more.
Chapter Seven
Four Years Ago
There’s an unbearable pulse behind my eyes as they peel open. The pain cuts through my skull as I try to focus. The room is blurry, but I know where I am. I’m still here, in a place girls like me aren’t supposed to be.
I’m not at home in bed, wearing my fluffy warm pajamas. I’m naked, exposed, my skin ice-cold from a draft coming in from somewhere. And I remember everything. Every sordid, terrible thing that he inflicted on me.
I almost want to pretend that I don’t remember. How nice would it be to pretend none of this happened? That Nicole hadn’t brought me to this place, and I never laid eyes on these people. Especially him. That horrible, terrible monster.
Something’s on me—a tickling sensation I imagine it a spider on the hunt for a meal, though knowing it can’t be anything other than a trick my mind has made up. Because whatever’s touching me is what woke me in the first place.
Blinking away the sheet of fog, I tilt my head to the side, and there he is. Blake. Damp hair and clean clothes indicate he’s fresh from a shower. Black shirt that’s tight against his thick chest and jeans. He smells of soap and aftershave and has a crazed grin on his mouth.
My head splits open, and everything he did to me comes flooding back in. The most prominent was the expression on his face when he raped me. Tears burn behind my eyelids and eventually seep down my face.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” he says, sick smile in place. I try to move as he circles around me, but my body spasms when sharp pain slices through my stomach, gushes of blood pooling between my legs, stinging broken skin.
“Ow,” I groan, sobbing.
He sits down next to me and touches my arm, turning me to face him. I squeeze my eyes shut, not able to look at him. “Baby girl. You’re making me feel bad.” He chuckles, and I know it’s not guilt he’s feeling. “Come on. What we did together was special.” Disgusting lips press against the side of my face, and my entire body recoils. He doesn’t like that reaction. “Look at me.”
A threat underlines his tone. Not wanting to be hurt again, I reluctantly open my eyes to see his smile widening, but there’s nothing nice about it. It’s sick and twisted, just like him. I’ve never hated anyone as much as I hate this man right now and what he did to me. Grabbing me, the tips of his fingers indented in my cheeks, he kisses me on the lips, tongue thrusting deep into my mouth. Whining with disgust, my hands slam into his shoulders to push him off. He’s too firm, and for a few more agonizing seconds, I’m trapped against his mouth until he finally stops.
“I’ve been telling the boys what a ride you are.” He strokes my head, pushing sticky hair off my face. But then his fingers wrap around the strands at the back of my skull, and I cry out from the bite as he pulls my head back. “You surprised me, baby girl. Making a man come like that is dangerous. It…complicates things.”
Bending over to collect something from the floor, he holds it up to display a pink housecoat with a tie. “You like? I took it off one of the girls. Put it on. I don’t want any old cunt lookin’ at what’s mine.”
“Please,”
