and thrill; the kind of voice that thrived on lust and pain and control. I picked his words apart through the drumming of blood in my ears, putting them together like a puzzle. It was a nightmare come to life. Ronan was asking whether anyone really needed a pinkie finger. It sounded like a rhetorical question, but a few men piped up. “He might forget the size of his cock with no finger to compare it to.” “His wife would miss the shocker,” one said, eliciting hearty laughs around the room. Ronan smiled. “I guess she will have to get it elsewhere.” My vision dimmed, terror inflating in my throat, when he stood and slammed the man’s hands flat on the table. “Any last words as a ten-fingered man?” The man clenched his teeth. Ronan chuckled. “So be it.” With a quick glint of silver, the man’s pinkie rolled off the table and fell to the floor with a sickening noise. His painful groan didn’t swallow my gasp of horror. Ronan’s dark gaze came my way. I couldn’t breathe, paralyzed beneath the heartless, brutal sheen in his eyes as he wiped the blood off the knife onto the side of his pants leg. A hot rush of adrenaline lit inside of me. I ran. Knowing a man sat at the end of the hall, I took a sharp right into the dark kitchen, crawled behind the stainless steel counter, and pressed my back against it. Soft steps sounded in the hallway, growing closer. Tears ran down my cheeks. I covered my mouth to hold in a sob. Dread tightened my lungs, smothering each breath before I could inhale. “Kotyonok,” he mocked, the soft endearment sounding from somewhere in the dark. He didn’t turn the lights on, and I knew it was because he was enjoying this twisted game of hide-and-seek. I crawled away from his voice. Now, I could see a light from the service door leading out near the bar. My chest moved up and down in anticipation. Without warning, I was on my feet and running to it, but I didn’t make it out of the dark before arms caught me from behind.