Page 65 of If You Dare

Trey shuts the door behind him, locking us in. “Hey, pretty girl.”

My stomach drops.

That knife is back out of his pocket, blade flipped open.

I clutch my bag in front of me, the only shield I have against Trey and his knife.

“Get out of here.” My words come out shaky in the silent room.

“I have other plans.” In three quick strides, he’s in front of me and ripping my bag from my hands, tossing it onto the floor. I cringe when the textbooks and phone inside smack against the tile.

I itch to run, but he’s blocking my only exit. Towering above me, almost as tall as Wes, green eyes glinting. “You’re not going anywhere.”

I watch in horror as he drags the blade across his bottom lip, nicking himself and licking away the bead of blood as he backs me against the wall.

His breath is hot on my neck, hands pinned above my head, caging me in.

He presses the knife, just below the crook of my ear, grazing it gently down my neck. I hold my breath, terrified that he’ll slice me open with the slightest movement.

In one fluid motion, he grips my ponytail with his other hand, yanking it high in the air and ripping at my scalp. I yelp, the pain making my eyes sting.

The next second, short strands of my hair tickle the back of my neck, my head suddenly lighter as his hand drops beside my shoulder.

I reach up to my ponytail—

And find nothing but air.

It’s gone. He cut off my ponytail.

The curtain of hair I used to hide behind, to turn myself invisible. My security blanket torn away in half a breath.

“Fuck, you look sexy this way.” A lopsided smirk that makes my stomach turn.

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.

Trey shrugs. “Captain’s orders.”

Wes. Wes instructed him to cut off my hair and threaten me with a knife.

A stupid part of me thought things were changing between me and Wes. Of course I was wrong. He’ll never forgive me. He shouldn’t.

“Ever had a papercut?” Trey asks.

I don’t want to say a word to him. Don’t want to utter anything that will set him off, encourage him. But if I stay silent, he’ll coax the words from my mouth with the sharp edge of that blade. “Yes.”

His hands drift down to my own, grabbing my wrist and flipping my palm open. I swallow down the scream of terror when he presses the tip of the knife against my palm.

“A little papercut hurts worse than you would expect, huh? Even a small wound can do a lot of damage.” He digs the tip of the knife harder against my skin, and I wince. That only turns his smile feral. “But we don’t want anyone knowing where I cut you, do we?”

I flatten against the wall, attempting to create space between us. If I try to escape him, if I try to make a run for it, he’ll only make this a thousand times worse.

He yanks my shirt up, exposing my stomach. I cry out when the blade bites into my tender flesh. “But here,” he purrs, “no one will see the marks I leave on you.”

“Please don’t do this, Trey.”

“You brought all of this punishment on yourself, baby girl. You gotta get what’s coming to you.”

His hand moves with a flash across my stomach. The slice is so quick and clean, the pain doesn’t register for a second.

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