Chapter Eleven

Lexi

Ihad suspected this masked man wasn’t one of them. Now I know as I spot Sergio through the window of the door as he raises a finger to his lips. I close my eyes, scrunching them up to stop the cascade of tears. They are here, all of them, and now I must be strong. Which is easier said than done with a knife held at your throat.

I want them to come in and stop this, to save me from the nightmare of this reality. Though it doesn’t take a genius to understand why they can’t. One jolt from this blade and I’m a goner. They need to find a quiet entry, or an opportunity to rescue.

They don’t realise I am waiting too.

He finally got the knife to my throat when I ran out of objects to throw, the arsenal now surrounding the door. As he moved closer, I kicked out my legs, ignoring the pain in my ankle as it connected. I used my teeth and nails as weapons, but nothing aided me as he swept in.

As he raised the knife to my throat, I attempted the safe word. I knew in my heart it wouldn’t work. That this man who had brought me here, trapped me with him, wasn’t one of them, but I was willing to try anything after exhausting everything else. I don’t think I have ever fought as hard as I have in these long minutes. He had waited for his moment, and he won. I am petrified.

I love to be scared, but I don’t want to die.

“Open your eyes, you little slut.”

They spring open, my eyes scanning his, my brain working out where I heard those words before. It comes to me. The icky guy telling me to enjoy the ride. I knew there was something off about him, a girl should always trust her instincts. I shudder. How many women has this man led to their doom before? Something must show in my eyes.

“Figured it out?”

The hand not holding the blade removes the mask from his face, revealing a cruel smile. “Don’t worry though, I’m not interested in touching you. Not without my knife anyway. I mean, you did consent to knife play in your form. You should always read the small print.”

His laugh is an evil thing sending a chill down to my bones, a dark sadistic noise I will hear in my nightmares for years to come if I am to survive this. Salvation may be behind that door, but it seems so far away when the knife edge nicks my throat. Blood pools briefly on my skin before it rolls down to my collarbone, I shudder, but I dare not move.

While he hovers above me, staring at me so intently, I resist flicking my eyes to the window. He must see the fear and absolute horror that is no doubt clear in my eyes. I want to shut them and squeeze them so tight he won’t have the satisfaction, but it would be foolish.

Swinging a leg over me, he straddles me, a position I was in earlier tonight. A fucked-up reminder of a deal that has gone awry, a safe word that doesn’t exist within these walls, and pleasure that will not come.

I want to scream, to cry, but even swallowing the saliva that has built in my mouth is impossible with the blade so perilously close to my throat. Delicately he drifts the blade across my skin and my eyes water as sharp pain blossoms over my neck, and his smile widens.

“Don’t worry, it’s a small cut, barely more than a papercut. I want this to last a while.”

His explanation holds an edge of excitement in his tone, his dark eyes no longer watching my fear but the knife he wields in awe. I need to distract him from the blood. From my pain.

I need an opening to get this madman off me.