Chapter 3

Holly Stevenson's POV:

The words hung in the air, so vile, so utterly insane, that for a moment, I couldn't process them. My mind simply refused.

"What did you say?" I whispered.

Janna's patience snapped. She grabbed my arm and twisted it behind my back, forcing a cry of pain from my lips. "I don't have time to repeat myself," she hissed. "Look at him."

She jerked my head towards Joel. His lips were blue. His chest was still. A terrifying stillness that screamed of finality.

I was trapped. Utterly and completely helpless. Fred and two of his thuggish friends had fanned out, creating a human cage around me. Their eyes roamed over my body, stripping me bare with their leering gazes. One of them licked his lips. I instinctively tried to pull my torn shirt closed, a pathetic gesture of modesty in the face of such violation.

Tears of pure, undiluted despair burned my eyes. "Please," I wept, the word losing all meaning.

Janna just sneered. "Tears won't save him." She glanced at her watch. "His brain has been without sufficient oxygen for almost eight minutes. He might have permanent damage already. Another few minutes, and it won't matter what I do."

The clinical coldness of her words was more terrifying than any physical threat. She held my brother's life in her hands, and she was enjoying watching it slip away.

I thought of Graham, of how he'd described Janna as just "a little clingy" and "melodramatic." He had no idea. He couldn't have fathomed this level of monstrousness. This wasn't melodrama; this was pure, psychopathic evil.

"Get on with it," Fred grunted, nudging me with the toe of his boot. "I ain't got all day."

Janna pulled out her phone and hit record, the red light a malevolent eye staring into my soul. "Clock's ticking," she sang.

There was no choice. For Joel. For the tiny, flickering chance that this monster would keep her word.

I sank to my knees on the hard, unforgiving ground. The gravel dug into my skin. Fred's friends chuckled.

"Nice view from down here," one of them drawled.

Shame, hot and acidic, rose in my throat. My body trembled with a mixture of pain, fear, and utter humiliation. "Will you... will you help him if I do this?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"Maybe," Janna said, her smile widening. "Depends on how convincing you are." She moved the phone closer, framing my face. "Look at the camera. And I want you to start by taking off your shirt."

My breath hitched.

"Do it," she commanded, her voice like steel. "Or should I tell Mark to call the coroner now?"

"No!" I cried out, the sound ripped from me. "Okay. Okay."

My fingers, numb and clumsy, went to the buttons of my blouse. My hands shook so badly I could barely manage the simple task. The fabric felt like a shield, and I was about to cast it aside.

Janna's eyes devoured me, a hungry, predatory gleam in their depths.

With the shirt off, leaving me in just a thin camisole, I looked at her, my eyes pleading. "Now will you help him?"

"Not yet," she purred. "Now, repeat after me. 'My name is Holly Stevenson, and I am a worthless slut.'"

The words were poison. They felt like swallowing shards of glass. But Joel's face, pale and still, swam before my eyes.

I took a shuddering breath, looked into the unblinking lens of the phone, and forced the lie from my lips. "My name is Holly Stevenson... and I am a worthless slut."

"I seduced a man who was already taken," Janna dictated, her voice dripping with venom.

"...I seduced a man who was already taken."

"I'm a pathetic homewrecker who deserves to be punished."

"...I'm a pathetic homewrecker... who deserves to be punished." Each word was another piece of my soul being chipped away.

"Now, please," I sobbed, my voice breaking completely. "Please, Janna. Save my boy. Save my Joel."