Chapter 3

Sterling pointed at the twenty shot glasses.

"The rules are simple," he drawled, leaning back into the leather sofa. "Either you take off your clothes and crawl to the door..."

His eyes dragged over her soaked sweater.

Kip Holloway laughed loudly. He pulled out his phone and hit record. The other guys followed suit.

Arlene's stomach twisted. Bile rose in her throat.

"Or," Sterling continued, "you drink us under the table. If you can still stand and walk out that door, your scholarship is safe."

Arlene didn't hesitate. Stripping meant social death. Drinking meant physical pain. She walked straight to the table.

Sterling looked surprised for a second. Then his eyes turned vicious. "Let's make it interesting."

He grabbed a small glass bottle from the ice bucket. It was a specialty hot sauce. Pure capsaicin extract.

Arlene watched in horror as he walked down the line. He poured a thick, red drop of the oil into every single shot glass. The red liquid bled into the clear alcohol.

"Now it's fit for a Boone," Sterling sneered.

Arlene stared at the toxic mixture. Her throat already felt like it was burning just looking at it.

She picked up the first glass. Her hand was completely steady. She threw her head back and swallowed it.

The liquor sliced down her throat. The capsaicin exploded like a grenade in her esophagus. Tears instantly streamed down her face.

Her stomach cramped so violently she bent forward. She bit her lip until she tasted copper, refusing to make a sound.

"Hell yeah!" Kip whistled. "Keep going. Nineteen left."

Arlene's hand shook as she picked up the second glass. Then the third.

By the fifth shot, her vision blurred. The neon lights in the room smeared into red streaks.

Sterling watched her, looking bored. He hadn't expected her to actually do it.

She reached for the eighth glass. Her fingers gave out. The glass slipped and shattered against the table edge. A sharp piece of glass sliced across her palm.

Blood mixed with the spilled alcohol. The sharp sting of the cut gave her a second of clarity.

She reached for the ninth glass with her bloody hand. Her knees buckled.

"Looks like you're done," Sterling said. He stood up and walked over to her. He looked down at her sweating, tear-streaked face.

He grabbed her chin, his fingers digging into her jaw.

"Let's go with option one. Take off the shirt..." His hand moved down to grab the collar of her sweater.

The last thread of Arlene's sanity snapped. She shoved Sterling hard in the chest. She grabbed the bottle of pure capsaicin from the table.

Before anyone could move, she brought the bottle to her lips and tipped it back.

The raw spice hit her stomach lining. She gagged violently, spitting up a mouthful of blood and saliva onto the floor. But she didn't stop. She fumbled for another shot glass still standing on the table and downed it.

Sterling stumbled back. His face went pale.

Arlene's vision went completely black. Her body folded in half. She hit the liquor-soaked carpet with a sickening thud.