Page 87 of If You Dare

I open my mouth, but he snarls, “Scream, and I slice your throat.”

The knife bobs when I clamp my lips shut and try to swallow the scream back down. “What are you doing?”

“Strip.”

“What?”

He presses the blade right under my chin, that too-familiar sharp edge pricking my skin. His familiar mask inches from my face. “Take your clothes off, or I’ll kill you.”

A tear slips down my cheek as I unbutton my jeans and push them down the best I can with the knife still pressed against my throat, cool air wrapping around my bare legs.

“I’ll tell Wes about this.” My words come out surprisingly strong, steady.

Trey smirks. “If you tell him—if you tell anyone—I’ll kill him.”

I stiffen. I want to call Trey out on his bluff, but this is Trey Lamont. He doesn’t bluff, and I wouldn’t put anything past him.

“You think it wouldn’t be easy for me to slice this across his throat while he’s sleeping? I live with the guy. It would benothing.”

I can’t believe he’s this twisted. This psychotic.

He grabs my hands, examining them like artwork. “If you tell anybody, his death will be on your hands. You sure you want more blood on these?”

He already knows the answer. Knows how the guilt over what I did to Chloe has paralyzed me, made me incapable of fighting back. I can’t risk anything happening to Wes because of me.

Trey pulls the knife a mere centimeter away from my throat. “Now the shirt.”

More tears as I reluctantly pull my shirt over my head. The chilly night air makes my skin pucker, my nipples peak beneath my bra. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to keep warm and shield myself the best I can as I stand in front of Trey in nothing but my underwear.

His grin sickens me. “Good.” He pulls out his phone and points it at me.

My stomach gives a violent twist. “What are you—” His camera flashes as he takes a photo, and my lip trembles. “Why are you doing this?”

His smile only grows as his cock gets harder in his pants, turned on by my fear and tears. “Turn to the side and stick your ass out.”

“Trey,” I plead, the drumbeat of my heart making my head pound.

He brandishes the knife again, closing the distance between us until I’m forced to back against the ice-cold brick wall. I swallow at the memory of what he did to me with that knife last time. How he licked my blood off the blade after carving me up with it. “I’m not fucking playing with you, Violet. Do what I say.”

My legs and hands tremble. I turn to the side and jut my ass out, biting my lip to stop it from wobbling. He’s not cutting me up like he did in the bathroom, but this is a new level of sick. Photos he’s going to jerk off to later.

He guides me through more positions, the camera flashing with the snap of every photo.

“Smile for the camera,” he purrs.

That may be his worst command yet. Forcing me to look like I’m enjoying this.

I manage a smile, even as a sob builds in my chest.

Trey pushes me to my knees, the harsh pavement digging into my skin. My heart stops, terrified he’s going to reach for his fly next.

“Wes told you guys to leave me alone,” I remind him.

He chuckles, snapping a photo of me on my knees in front of him. “So?”

“So you’re not doing this for him. You’re retaliating because I ratted you out.”

Trey grips me by the throat, dragging me to my feet. I gasp at the pain as he throws me back against the wall, the hard bricks scraping the delicate skin across my back and legs.

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