Drip. Drip. Drip.
“Fuck! Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
I lift my aching head that feels like a hundred pounds on my stiff neck, and stare at the concrete walls of what has become my cage. Where is that fucking noise coming from?
Drip. Drip.
Losing my mind, I tug at my hands behind my back, the rope biting into my flesh. “Fuckkkkkk!”
My head drops between my shoulders and I stare at the ground.
Drip. Drip.
Red dots clutter my gaze and I focus on the red puddle beneath me. Blood. Oh yeah. I’m bleeding.
The door opens with a loud grind of metal and I squeeze my eyes shut, ready to die, hoping it’s time. If Jared did what he was supposed to do and saved Amy, it will be. She deserves to live. I do not. But I will not go out a coward. Defiantly, I lift my head and I think I blink. My eyelids are too swollen to be sure. Considering there’s a gorgeous brunette in a pale, slim-cut black dress that hugs her curves in all the right places standing in front of me, maybe I’m dead already anyway. Her creamy ivory skin and pale blue eyes are pretty angelic, so yeah. I think I’m dead. Fuck though, I still hurt all over, so I must have gotten what I deserve. I’m in hell and the devil is a hot bitch playing games with me. I could think of worse nightmares. Like my life.
Drip. Drip.
Or not. The dead don’t bleed and I sure the fuck am. I give my new bitch a smirk, eying her with a nice long inspection meant to make her feel uncomfortable and send me to my hell with at least a little pleasure.
“Sweetheart, you’re going to need a whole lot more than stilettos and great legs to get me to talk, though I’m pretty sure I have some moans left in me. I’ll let you have a few, too.”
She pulls a knife out from behind her back. “Ah,” I murmur. “You like it kinky, do ya? I guess this is where things get interesting.”
“Yes, Chad,” she murmurs, her voice as sexy as her legs. “It is.” And then she, and her knife, move just where I want them. Nice and close.