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“I don’t know,” I admitted, taking her hand in mine as something cold slipped through me. “I just don’t know.”

Why would these men want us? It had to be more than loyalty. We all knew that only went so far…especially with powerful men like this. There was always a hunger, always a…need. A shiver coursed through me. They weren’t taking us for what we could give them. So then why?

Bethany’s fear was my own. The only difference was, I feared for them. Not for myself.

“I won’t fuck him,” she said, voice sharpening into something dangerous. “Or anyone else they send to me. I’ll cut out my own throat before I let that happen again.”

“Then that’s the line you keep.” I whispered.

Pain flared in my leg, dragging something darker with it.

Metal bars.

Laughter.

Hands I couldn’t stop.

Fear and something savage trembled deep inside me, screaming from the abyss I’d met many times before. I’d felt cruelty in that place. Take it off. Lay on the bed. I’d felt men’s cruelty before. I’d never allow that again—I wouldn’t survive.

And neither would they.

“You protect yourself however you have to,” I said. “But I have to believe it won’t come to that. London and Vivienne didn’t pull us out just to put us back there.”

“I hope not,” She murmured. “I’d rather die.”

Me too.

“Thank you, Nyssa.” She gripped my hand. “I feel better.”

She stood, pulling me up with her. The haunted look hadn’t left her eyes—but she was back. Just enough.

“Nyssa?”

Mel waited down the hall.

“I’m coming.” I gave Bethany a quick hug, then stepped away, my bladder screaming. “But first I need to pee and shower.”

“I’ll make you breakfast.” Mel said, smiling.

“Thank you.” I managed a small smile back. “Then we’re going to see just how stunning you’re about to look.”

That brought a real smile to her lips.

I left them, the noise of the house rising behind me—voices, doors, laughter that didn’t quite sound real. The other Daughters were preparing for one of the most important nights of their lives.

But that panic didn’t reach me.

I moved through it.

Slow. Careful. Familiar.

I slipped into the first-floor bathroom and locked the door behind me.

Silence.

I used the toilet, then stripped and stepped into the shower. Warm water hit my skin and I tipped my head back, letting it run over my face.

A scream echoed somewhere in the house.