“Look at her try to fight,” a voice sneered, and she looked into a pair of eyes she had trusted.
How could she have been so stupid?
She knew better.
Knew better than to come to a party alone where the only one she knew was a man who was supposed to be a friend.
Knew better than to take a drink offered to her when she had no way to know what was in it.
Knew better than to wander off by herself in an attempt to leave rather than immediately grab her phone and call one of her brothers when she realized she was in trouble.
Now she was going to pay the price.
“She’s hot,” another voice said, and even in her drugged state she could hear the heavy weight of lust.
“Back off, she’s mine. I went to enough trouble to get her here since she wouldn’t put out. No one touches her but me.”
How did she not see who he really was?
She’d thought he was a friend, she’d trusted him. They’d studied together, and while, yes, she had resisted his advances, making it clear she wasn’t ready for another relationship so soon after her ex cheated on her, she’d thought he understood.
Her pants were undone and shoved down her legs enough to bare her panties which were ripped off her body and tossed aside. Tears leaked from her eyes as her drugged body tried fruitlessly to fight the man who settled between her spread legs and his friends who held her down …
“Fight, Grace. If you want to live you have to fight.”
The sudden appearance of Emmanuel standing above her startled her.
What was he doing there?
He hadn't been there that night.
Then she noticed the metal cuff circling her neck, chaining her to the floor. There were cuffs around her ankles, and one around her hips as well. Rendering her helpless.
A blade glinted above her, and she realized she was holding onto the knife handle. It was attached to something, a spring of some sort, and she knew if she let go it would send the blade piercing through her chest.
Her arms shook.
She couldn’t do this.
“Remember the story of the crow and the pitcher,” Emmanuel said, glancing between her and something off to the side.
Grace turned her head.
Saw another woman there, bound with a knife above her, just as she was.
“Persistence,” Emmanuel continued, “there is always a way, never give up. If you want to live you have to keep trying. Your life is in your own hands.”
She could do this.
Sooner or later her arms would give out.
It wasn’t a matter of persistence it was simply a fact.
Eventually her arms would give out and the knife would pierce her heart, killing her …
“Shoot her,” Emmanuel ordered.
“No.” Grace shook her head wildly. Why was he asking her to kill the woman? So she had lost the fable game. If Emmanuel hadn't set the game up to kill the loser and wanted the woman dead then why didn't he kill her himself?