My hand shoots forward and grabs her arm, yanking her around before she can react. She gasps as I spin her to face me. Now she's looking straight at me.
The emergency lights above us barely illuminate the space. Just enough to carve pieces of my face out of the darkness. Her eyes widen. Not with recognition anymore. With shock.
Because the monster who has been nothing but a voice and a mask suddenly has a face. Not fully. But enough. The sharp line of my jaw, the hollows of my cheeks, and the eyes that have watched from the shadows. She's staring at the man she danced with. The man who held her in the light is the same one who now holds her in the dark.
I move closer to her body. For a moment, I consider answering honestly, admitting to the unhealthy obsession that has rooted itself in my marrow. But that would give her power over me, a leverage that isn't useful for me at this moment.
Instead I lean closer.
“You are still alive because…”
I whisper, the heat of my breath ghosting over her skin.
“You came when I told you to.”
My hand moves suddenly, my fingers curling firmly around her chin. I tilt her face up, forcing her to maintain eye contact.
“And I reward obedience.”
My cock hardens visibly in my pants. The physical reaction between us is instantaneous. A heavy, primal heat floods my system, visible and undeniable. I notice the exact moment her gaze shifts downward. Not to the weapon I'm holding, but lower.
Her breath catches in her throat, a small, jagged sound that echoes in the cold room. A dangerous smirk forms on my lips. Of course she notices. Adrenaline does strange things to the body, violence even more so. The air between us is thick with the scent of both.
I lean even closer, my voice dripping with lust.
“Good.”
Her brow narrows, confusion flickering through the shock in her eyes.
“Good… what?”
“That you’re paying attention baby.”
I step back, letting the sudden, artificial cold of the room rush in to fill the space where I just was. Confusion flashes across her features. Just enough space between us now that she can breathe normally again.
I don't give her time to recover. I gesture firmly with the gun toward the rows of metal drawers lining the walls.
“Open them.”
It isn't a suggestion. It's an order that cuts through the silence like a blade.
“What?”
She blinks, her voice small, lost in the vastness of the morgue.
“All of them.”
Disbelief washes over her, momentarily drowning out the fear.
“You can’t be serious right now.”
My gaze doesn’t leave her for a second. I aim the gun directly at her heart, my hand steady, my expression unreadable.
“Every drawer,” I repeat calmly.
“Pull the trays out.”
Her eyes narrow, that defiance of hers flaring up again. She freezes under the sight of the gun barrel, but she tries to mask the tremor in her hands by crossing her arms.
