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His shoe clicks against the stone as he moves between the cells. He doesn't speak, he just observes, taking his time to look at the girls, to take in every part of them. My stomach lurches at Annabelle's empty cell. Please be okay, Annabelle, wherever you are. Be strong enough to survive. My heart aches so bad from guilt for sleeping. Why did I sleep? Why didn't I save her? My heart sinks.

I can't save anyone.

The man gets to my cell. I grip the bars tighter and hold his gaze, showing him I'm not afraid, even though inside I am terrified.

"Do you have a name?" His voice amused, he raises a brow as he looks at me, drinking in the sight of my naked body under the sheer gown. But I don't budge. I don't even flinch.

"Amora," I reply, my tone flat. He steps closer, the smell of him overpowering. He turns to the guards for a second, a small laugh escaping his throat. "Open her gate."

He's coming in here. Why? Why me? Why not them? The thought guts me—how sick and wrong I was that I wish it was happening to someone else.

I hold my breath as the guards step forward, fumbling with the lock. I watch the man roll his eyes, but they fall quickly back to me. Every glance worms its way under my skin.

The gate opens, and he steps inside. Each step he takes closer to me, I match by retreating until my back hits the stone wall.

There's nowhere to go. Nowhere to run.

I shoot a look at the other girls, who are holding themselves up. Their faces are pale, eyes wide. Yeah, I'm scared, too.

He doesn't speak as he towers over me, his eyes making it feel like tiny spiders are crawling over my skin. I try to stay strong, to show him I'm not afraid by holding his gaze, but it's too much.

He's tall—not just six foot, more like six-three, with shoulders you'd see on a rugby player. His hair slicked back, darker than the black suit he's wearing, and eyes that pierce into your soul.

He isn't ugly. Not like the boulder, Derek. It doesn't make sense. If anything, it makes it worse because he doesn't need to take women. Most would be swooning over his attention, he doesn't need the girls or me. Why? Why, why, why? My mind plays on repeat with not a single answer.

His hand makes me flinch as it lands on my chin, pulling me to hold his gaze.

"Beautiful," he whispers.

I want to claw at his hand, to pull away and scrub the remnants of his touch from my skin, but he grips tighter. He doesn't take his eyes from me as he studies my body, memorising every inch.

"Do you not have manners, girl?"

"Do you? You touched me without permission."

What the hell did I just do? I bite my cheek, hands sweating. Oh God, I have a death wish. I brace myself for a slap or worse, my head tilted to the right to avoid his stare—but he surprises me.

He laughs. He fucking laughs. Slowly, I turn to face him, but he's never stopped looking at me. It's unnerving, being looked at like a prize rather than a person.

"She's fiery."

"Yeah, Ace had some trouble with her, too." Percy laughs as he tugs his trousers up. "Heard she gave him a shiner on the jaw."

The man leans forward, his fingers gently caressing the skin of my cheek, every touch adoring. It's so confusing how his touch feels almost like a lover and not a captor. I don't let it get twisted—this touch isn't kind, it's claiming.

"Is that so?"

My eyes stay fixed on the dirty floor. Don't look up.

"I sure do like a challenging one," he whispers. I can hear the desire in his voice, his breath hot against my skin from the proximity. It takes all my strength not to lash out, to protect myself.

"Who are you?" I let the words tumble through a breath.

"Vincent. Vincent Reigns," he introduces himself with confidence. Like I'm supposed to know the name, but I don't. His hands move, gliding across my waist. His touch sends ripples of a shudder through my body, every hair standing under the palm of his hand through the sheer dress.

Please God, let me die in this moment. I can't take his touch, my body can't make sense of the softness, of the way his hands stay lingering at my hips. His thumb caressing me through the dress, every part of me twisting as I fight back the flutter in my stomach. Kill me. Just kill me.

"Cat got your tongue now, girl?" He pulls me closer, my hand falling flat on his chest as our bodies connect, moulding together. Every part of me burns under his touch, his gaze devouring me whole. I don't know how much more I can take before I snap.