Page 175 of Intense
He takes the seat opposite me, leaning back, arms folded. “Stephanie.”
From his jacket pocket, he pulls out folded papers and a pen. He pops the cap off with his mouth, spitting it onto the floor.
“Before the games begin, I need you to sign something. A formality.” His smile is thin.
He passes me the papers. His face stays hard, unreadable.
“Read it. Then you’ll sign in pen… and blood. I’ll do the same.”
It has to be part of the trial. Another push, to see how far I’ll bend before I snap. This whole setup suits him. Exerting the power he has over people. Organized and clinical, yet probably sadistic.
“I’d rather not bore myself with legal documents and just get on with the games,” I say, forcing confidence I don’t fully feel.
His thumb drags slowly along his bottom lip.
“You’re already ignoring my rules. Not a great start, is it, Stephanie?”
I sigh and look down at the page headed with“The Decadence Trials of Dr. Stephanie Quinn and Dr. Finn Quinn.”
Everything is a blur of words on a page as I skim through. Formalities. I know how contracts work. And it hurts that he doesn’t just accept my consent. That he needs it in writing.
It covers everything. From cutting to spanking to taking trial medicines. It even covers the death of both parties. Listed like it’s nothing.
I trust him. I know the risks with anything in life. I could walk out in front of a car and die. I take risks every single day with other people's lives.
This doesn’t faze me. And it’s not telling me anything about what is in the trials. It’s not telling me what happens when I win or lose. It’s pretty basic with terrifying wording.
But then, my eyes catch on the final clause. The part that is a kick in the teeth.
If I fail the games, this document will annul our marriage.
“You want this marriage to be over?” My throat tightens, heat threatening my eyes.
He reclines in his chair, ankle over his knee. “I never did. You did. Here’s the out you’ve been wanting.”
His eyes are shards of ice.
“I–I don’t want that. Not anymore.”
“I wouldn’t be so confident, love. I’m not the man you think I am. Sign it, and I’ll reintroduce you to the real Dr. Quinn.”
A shiver runs down my spine. My fingers shake around the pen.
It’s a game. It has to be. He wouldn’t actually hurt me. Not really.
But the contract says death.
A game of survival.
And if I don’t sign, I fail.
“You wouldn’t really kill me, would you?”
His smile blooms, and somehow he becomes more dangerous.
“That’s a risk you take, love. Do you trust me with your life?”
He leans forward, elbows braced on his thighs, gaze steady and unblinking.
