Page 120 of The Toy Maker

The question lingered like a bad taste in my mouth as I hesitated at the dressing room door. My heart thrummed in my throat, still sore from earlier. I didn’t like my options.

I steeled myself, inhaling sharply before pushing the door open—only to freeze at the sight before me.

A raven-haired girl, head tossed back, mouth parted in pleasure, was riding a man on the sewing table like her life depended on it. The room smelled of sweat and sex, the air thick with it, and for a moment, I was too stunned to move.

Then she turned, and familiar dark eyes met mine.

“Jade?” My voice came out half a gasp.

“Oh my God.” In an instant, Jade hopped off the man and rushed toward me, wrapping me in a tight embrace. “You’re alive.”

More than a few questions popped into my head—like why the hell she was in the dressing room screwing a guy while I was out there nearly being murdered—but before I could voiceany of them, the man she had been on top of sauntered over, unconcerned with his complete lack of clothing.

He was tall, lean, and his skin was a shade darker than hers. Dark brown eyes peered out from under the faded blue hair falling across his forehead. He moved like he belonged by her side, like nothing about this situation was remotely odd.

Jade stroked his arm as she looked back at me. “This is Flynn,” she introduced. “We’re friends.”

They exchanged a knowing glance, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to unpack whatever that meant. I cleared my throat, nodding toward him before cutting straight to the point. “Where’s Kitty?”

Jade hesitated. “She was in the BDSM room last time I checked, but I woul?—”

I didn’t wait for the rest. I was already moving, shoving the door open and slamming it shut behind me.

Kitty’s eyes went wide the moment she saw me. Her makeup was smeared as if she’d been crying. “You’re awake,” she exclaimed in relief.

“That’s what they keep telling me.” My voice was hoarse, my throat still aching from the hands that had tried to crush the life out of me. A part of me still wondered if this was real or some elaborate hallucination my brain had constructed to avoid that I had died on the table.

A ragged breath came from the side of the room, drawing my attention.

“I am so sorry for what happened,” Sam said, sitting slumped against the wall. His lip was busted open, and blood seeped from a gash on his forehead. He probably needed stitches. His entire body was wrecked, like he had already paid for what he did.

I didn’t even have to ask.

Jason had made sure of that.

I swallowed the wince threatening to rise, keeping my expression unreadable. I opened my mouth to respond, but Kitty spoke first.

“It’s my fault.”

My gaze snapped back to her. “So it’s true? You told him to choke me?”

“No.” She stepped closer, her face etched with something that almost looked like guilt. “I only told him to be rough. I didn’t?—”

I swallowed down the anger clawing up my throat, the burn of betrayal cutting deeper than I wanted to admit. “Why?”

She bit at her lip. “I thought Jason would do something. I wanted to see how he’d react.”

That was all I needed.

I glanced at Sam, who wouldn’t even lift his head. “I guess now we know.” I turned on my heel, heading straight for the door.

I barely made it to the dressing rooms before Kitty caught up to me, her fingers latching onto my arm.

The room was empty now; Jade and Flynn probably went to celebrate my return from the dead elsewhere.

“I didn’t know this was going to happen,” Kitty insisted, desperation creeping into her voice.

“That doesn’t make it better.” I yanked my arm free and kept moving.