Page 16 of Cruel Honor

I gasp. My back presses against the door, but I’m not going anywhere. “You’re going to kill me?”

“Well, yes.” He states it like it’s obvious. “I told you, Evelyn, you’re my type.”

I look out at the city as it passes us by. All the bright lights, even in the dark. All the people safe in their beds. I could have been one of those people, but I just had to leave for once in my life. If I survive this, I’ll hole up in the library and never leave again.

Then it hits me. Dima says I’m his type. He wants to kill me. I remember the news report about a serial killer. About the victims he went after. The victims that look a lot like me.

“You’re a serial killer, aren’t you?” I whisper. “The one the police are searching for.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “You’re smart. How did you figure that one out?”

“Like you said, I’m smart.” Oh my god. I’m in a car with the killer the police are looking for right now. None of his other victims escaped. I’m going to die.

The thought hits me right in the stomach so fast I almost vomit. Never before in my life have I felt such crippling fear.

I bend forward and take in shallow breaths as I hold my head in my hands.

“Panicking, Evelyn?”

I sit back up and look at him. He’s clearly stronger than me. He’s clearly the one in control here because he has all the advantage. Heknows where he’s going. He knows exactly what he’s going to do to me.

For once, I don’t know what’s going to happen. I can’t just open a book and look through the index and find what I’m searching for.

That knowledge—or lack thereof—is what’s crippling.

But I can’t just give up and die. I made a choice to leave my house tonight. A choice to leave Juno behind. A choice to get out of my books for once.

I can’t just die after all of that.

I keep my eyes on Dima the entire drive. I know why he doesn’t blindfold me. He thinks I’m not going to make it out of this. I don’t bother watching my surroundings because it’s not going to help. I have no idea where I am, but what I do know is who I’m with.

If I just keep my eyes on Dima, then maybe I can stop him from hurting me.

We finally stop outside a quaint little house. It’s shabby. Needs a paint job. The front yard is all dead, yellow grass. The chain link fence makes the entire facade more ominous.

“It’s time,” he says, getting out of the car.

I try the door again, but it’s locked. He shuts his door before I can try escaping out that way. I have no choice but to watch him walk around the car and open my door.

And then I react.

I use the palm of my hand and slam it into his throat. He jerks back, letting out a choked grunt. I run.

For a moment, I feel freedom. I can taste it.

And then Dima grabs me again and throws me to the ground. He kicks my head, making everything go dizzy. My limbs refuse to work as he lifts me and carries me inside. If his hands smelled, his house reeks.

It smells like death, I realize.

He brings me down to a basement where an operating table sits in the middle of the room. Next to it is a table full of scalpels and scissors.

Dima tosses me onto the table and locks me down with straps. I’m not going anywhere.

He smiles down at me. “Ready to play?”

I try to scream, but he stuffs a rag into my mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He picks up a pair of scissors and starts cutting my dress up the middle. He pulls it apart to reveal my bra and underwear underneath.

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