Page 5 of Terror Tuesday

Hunter’s posture shifts as he crosses his arms in a show of dominance. As if he’s suddenly got the power to show me off like a prized racehorse. “Yeah, sure, man.” He eyes me for a moment, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, before he dismisses me with a wave of his hand in my direction. “She’s good, but, uh, we’re not appointed.”

Vanq’s mask scans me with an intensity that feels like it’s peeling my skin away. I step back, instinctively trying to widen the gap between myself and the men who block the exit, but it’s useless. Even though I can’t see anything about his expression, it feels like the hooded man has penetrated me with my own blade. And the shelves surrounding the walls are caving in.

Some words manage to crawl out of my throat, thick with fear. “Hunter, you’re notagreeing?—”

Hunter ignores me. “And if we do that, then what? Paid in full?”

Vanq’s voice is smooth and full of assurance. “Yes.”

Hunter nods at Bryce, who’s already grinning like this is some twisted game. With a shrug, my boyfriend says, “Yeah, we can do that. Olivia, get over here.”

“I-I can’t do that. What if?—”

Hunter rushes at me and snags my upper arms as I stumble. The dig of his fingers into my skin is the only thing holding me up. My knees beg to sink back to the chair behind them.

He lowers his voice as venom seeps through his gritted teeth. “Ineedthis, Olivia. Stop being such a fucking prude and suck my dick.” Lips brushing against my ear, he whispers, “This nerd has probably never seen a real girl do this, so just perform and get it over with. Give him some spankbank material for later.”

Vanq watches us carefully, his full black mask unwavering, as if he’s clocking this moment like a computer, logging it for later.Shivers run down my spine, and I feel every movement of my bones.

Bryce leans against the door to the hall, crossing his arms and legs like he’s not going anywhere. With an answer to any momentary thought of escape I may have, Vanq flicks the knife closed, then pops it open again. The click echoes in the room while his mask remains fixed on me, waiting.

Sometimes, survival means compliance. Play the game until I can get away. I know who holds the power here. The most threatening figure is holding my only weapon. Hunter and the other dolt don’t seem to care or notice what type of danger we’re in. But I see it. I know it.

All too well.

And, as if he read my mind, Hunter catches my chin and lifts it, saying, “A true servant ofCaliphyllaknows their place and obeys without question.”

Thosewords. They sting.

My eyes squeeze shut as the memory attempts to force its way to the forefront. Images. Frames in my head. Nausea. Burning in my temples. Fingers sliding over my dress, trying to find the smooth surface of my embalmed wing. A pocket! Where’s a pocket!

“Dress. No pockets…” I whisper, out of breath.

“What?”

Air seeps through my lungs in tiny spurts. Panic. Impending doom.

Sayingnodoesn’t matter. Not in this world.

But a well-placed smile can be sharper than a blade.

Pressing a shoulder into his sternum, I shove him away and say, “Fine. But I want to usemyphone to record it.”

If I have access, I can control a piece of this. If I can record it, maybe no one will ever see it. Maybe no one will ever know about tonight.

I’m fantastic at hiding things. I don’t just keep secrets.

I preserve them like corpses.

Vanq only gives me a slight nod while Hunter drops his arms to his sides, a confident grin smearing across his features. “That’s my girl.”

Despite my pulse blurring my eyesight, I could swear Vanq jolted at that endearment.

With shaky hands, I grab my phone from my bag, then hand it over to Bryce. His lecherous eyes scan my breasts as if he knows what color my nipples are. Hunter acts like this is any other Saturday night, waltzing to the middle of the small room while his belt clanks as he unbuckles it. My throat goes dry, which is inconvenient, given the job I’ll need to do to get us out of here in one piece.

I hope.

No matter what they make me do, I will survive this. What they don’t understand is…