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I could grab a gun from the desk.
But the man. The man has a knife.
He nods to the two guys who brought me in. “Leave us,” he says. “And lock the door.”
“Don’t do anything, Katelyn,” Luke says. “Please.”
“Luke, I—"
“Please.”
I can’t make that promise. I learned survival on that island, and I will fight to the death if I must.
I will fight for Luke even if he no longer wants to fight for himself.
“Take a look at this,” the man says. He points to Luke’s shoulder.
The tattoo. The image he sent me over the phone. His new tattoo that says Katelyn.
“It’s new,” the man says. “It probably still hurts. In fact, he still has his clear bandage on it.” He pries his fingers under what looks like plastic wrap and rips it from Luke’s shoulder.
Luke winces, but he says nothing.
King holds up some kind of knife. All I see is the sharp steel blade. It sparkles, as the rays of the sun flow through the window and cast their glow on it.
“This man loves you,” King says to me. “He’s willing to give his life for you. But let’s just see how willing he is to suffer for you.”
“No, please—”
“Shut up!” King says. “The more you beg for him, the harder I will hurt him.”
I clamp my lips shut.
I’m no stranger to knives. I saw the wounds Zee had before I went to the island. They cut the tops of her breasts, and she still bears the scars. She was bleeding when she found me, my shoulders dislocated. I was cut on the island many times.
King moves behind the chair Luke is bound to, places the sharp blade of the knife against his skin.
“You will watch,” he says to me. “If you take your eyes from the knife in my hand at any time, I will end his life. If you speak at any time, I will end his life. Is that clear?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Then I nod.
“This man professes to love you. So much that he got your name tattooed on his skin. What the hell does that mean, anyway? Men do that all the time, get some woman’s name tattooed on their skin. Then there’s a bad breakup, and before you know it you’re Johnny Depp with the word wino tattooed on your body. Do you think this man loves you? That this tattoo is some kind of proof? Let me be the one to burst your bubble. This man—Lucifer Raven—is not capable of loving another human being.”
I open my mouth to refute his words, but then I remember.
I cannot speak, or he will kill Luke.
“We’ll see how much he loves you.” King positions the knife at the top of the K in Katelyn. “How lucky that he chose script. I can make one long cut.”
He slices into Luke’s flesh.
Luke winces but does not cry out.
I have no choice but to watch as King slices Luke open in the form of the K. It’s a shallow cut as far as I can tell, but beads of blood emerge on Luke’s flesh.
But Luke’s flesh is not paper, and King isn’t able to make one swift cut. He has to stop, and then he begins again with the A.
Luke grimaces. Squeezes his eyes shut. But does not let out a sound.
Rage boils inside me. I feel every cut of that knife on Luke’s skin as if it were my own.
In fact, I’d rather he be cutting me.
I’ve been cut before. I can take it.
I force my gaze to stay on King, on the knife marring Luke’s beautiful flesh.
He doesn’t move, doesn’t let out a sound.
Finally, after what seems like an hour of painstaking work, King is finished. Luke now has my name written in his own blood on his shoulder.
“There,” King says. “That’s much better. Don’t you think?” He nods to me.
I keep my mouth sewn shut.
“Answer me.”
“You said if I spoke, you would hurt him more. So I won’t be speaking.”
“So I did.” He slices a long cut into Luke’s upper arm.
Luke sucks in a breath.
“Since you spoke, he will suffer.”
Rookie mistake. I shouldn’t have said anything. I won’t trip up again. I try to meet Luke’s gaze, try to tell him I’m sorry with my eyes.
But he looks straight ahead.
He will not turn and look at me.
“Your boyfriend here has nerves of steel,” King says. “But I’m willing to bet he’ll crash if I sink this sharp blade into your pretty flesh.”
I suck back a gasp. Again, this isn’t anything I haven’t been through before. However, there is no failsafe. There’s nothing stopping this man from killing me.
“You know?” King says. “You have nerves of steel yourself, don’t you? Most women would be throwing up at the sight of all this blood.”
Does he not know who I am? What I’ve been through?
