Page 96 of Lethal Obsession

Or worse, he’ll make me watch them hurt her. Hurt her even worse than I’m about to, until I can’t take it and react.

A reaction that would cause us both to be destroyed.

No.

Doing this myself, with no visible emotion, is the only way to keep her safe.

But it doesn’t matter how true I know that to be. Nor how many times I tell myself the same thing.

None of that can ever make this right, and I fucking know it.

I slip my knife beneath Ofelia’s dress and split the silk straight down the center, forcing myself not to wince at her involuntary gasp.

Focus. Your ability to wield this fucking blade is all that determines both of your futures.

Because even if my plan works, and we make it out of this room, none of it will matter if Ofelia bears visible scars from my knife for the rest of her life. Even if she, and our families, could forgive me for them—which I seriously doubt—I won’t ever forgive myself.

I slide my blade beneath the thin fabric of her underwear, cutting it away at the hip with surgical precision.

Don’t let him see her face.

I know, from my own torture, that the worst thing is when they can see the effect they are having on you. No matter how humiliating it might be to expose your naked body to their eyes, it’s still better than allowing them the satisfaction of seeing your naked soul.

And I will fucking die before I allow them even a glimpse of the depths I sense in Ofelia.

So the trick is to make them look somewhere else.

Bracing myself, I hook my boot under her knee and push it slowly outward. Then the other knee, until the most intimate part of her is exposed to the whole room.

Ofelia’s eyes close in shame.

“Look at me.” I barely breathe the words, willing her to respond. Her eyes open and roll sideways to where Masha is watching us, her face frozen in terror.

Ofelia stiffens.

Fuck.

I’ve learned that there’s very little Ofelia can’t withstand—she’ll face even the worst humiliations with an almost uncanny calm. The exception is when it comes to her little sister.

Then, she’s ferocious as a storm.

I shift subtly, hiding Ofelia’s face from the group at the door. She turns to Masha, and despite the watching men, despite my blade between her legs, she somehow forces herself to smile.

Pretend, she mouths to her sister.

Christ, she’s brave.

Masha’s eyes dart to me, seeking reassurance, and I give her the tiniest of nods. The acute fear fades from her face, replaced by understanding: this is the “game” Ofelia told her we would have to play.

On cue, she bursts into a fit of hiccuping tears, drawing the attention of all the watchers at the door.

Masha, I’m beginning to learn, is as bold as her sister is brave.

Ofelia trembles beneath me.

“Don’t move,” I breathe. I’m acutely aware of my blade against her naked body. Of the pain I’m about to inflict.

I try to retreat to the place I always do when Vilnus forces me to torture. To the dull walled room in my mind where I lock away what’s left of my humanity.