Page 31 of Dare To Fall

I shake my head, my heart beating rapidly in my chest, fear spiking. “I’ll take that chance. I did what they wanted last night. That has to count for something.”

“You’re not leaving this room until you take the fucking photograph.” The muscle in his jaw ticks, an unspoken threat hanging between us.

“What are you going to do, Eli?” I hold his penetrating glare. “Keep me a prisoner?”

“Yes,” he replies without an inch of hesitation. “You are doing this, or I will gag you, tie you up and take you somewhere no one will fucking find you.”

A disbelieving laugh escapes me, but it dies quickly when he doesn’t smile. “Holy shit. You’re serious!”

Kellan sighs behind him. “As much as I’m sure you’d both get a kick out of it, we are not keeping her captive, Eli. If we’re doing this, it needs to be done now. Your blackmailers will be waiting for a response.”

I want to argue more. Tell him that he doesn’t have to do this, but the look in his eyes makes it clear he’s not going to listen.

I drop my attention from his face. “I-I think if you’re lying face down on the bed, it would be better.”

“It would look more natural. Like you’re sleeping,” Kellan agrees.

Eli slides his hand up from my throat and cups my jaw. He rubs his thumb over my lips. “Make it quick.”

Releasing me, he stalks to his bed and throws himself down on the blanket. Kellan gives me a firm nod when I glance his way. I move to the end of the bed, aim the camera on my phone at Eli, and snap a photo. The image is of his back and shoulders but not his face or lower half. I attach it to a text and send it off.

“Done.” I sink down onto the edge of the bed.

“Did they send you anything else last night?” Kellan pulls out some boxer briefs and some sweatpants from the dresser on his side of the room.

I scroll through the messages on my cell. “Just the lap dance with Eli and flirting with you before sex—”

The phone is snatched out of my hand.

“Hey!” I twist and find Eli holding it. His face is pale, eyes wide and haunted. “What’s the matter?”

Kellan crosses the room, rounding the bed to take a look at what his friend is staring at. “Shit.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing.” His smile is tight.

“Don’t give me that crap. I can tell from your faces it’s something.”

“The girl in the photograph they sent you. That’s Zoey,” Eli’s voice is quiet.

A sick sense of dread washes over me. “Zoey Rivers?”

He nods.

I frown. “When was it taken?”

Kellan and Eli share a look but remain silent.

I take the phone back from Eli and look at the photo on the screen. Zoey is in a white dress. The same one I’d worn last night. I copied every detail, just as instructed. My hair and makeup. I’d been a living doll for my blackmailers to position and use. It’s no wonder Eli had seemed so angry.

Zoey. The dead girl. Eli and Kellan’s friend.

They had ensured I was dressed the same way.

Why? What was the motivation behind it?

“When was this taken?” I repeat, my agitation blooming.

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