“I never really cared about wine. But I wanted his favorite. Pétrus. The cellar was so dark, so cold. All the labels looked the same and it took me a while to find the bottles. They were on the far wall.” She remembered the smell of oak and grapes, the pungent aroma of reds. The crisp scent of whites. Closing her eyes, she brought her clasped hand to her throat. “It was warmer by the wall. I was afraid the climate control had failed. If his wine was ruined, he’d blame me.”

She’d searched the walls for a switch or a box, not sure of what she was seeking. “Tucked away, behind the row of bottles, I saw a door. There was a faint red light. I went to it and I heard a strange noise. I thought it was the unit, understand?”

“Yes.” Gabriel captured her cold hands, warming them. Her voice had grown thinner, fainter. He had to lean close to hear. “I understand.”

“I turned the knob. There was a sound.” Her shoulders began to shake. “A swish through the air. And a slap. Then I heard the noise again. It was a scream.”

The door had been heavy when she pushed at it. Then it opened, swinging silently on its hinges. Her eyes tried to adjust to the light, the deep red that seemed to pulse through the room. The noises were louder, more discernible. Like a woman’s screams.

From the doorway, she could make out a figure standing and a second one that appeared to be suspended from the ceiling. Chains rattled on walls; moans undulated in waves of torment and ecstasy. Lights danced over leather and steel. In the room she’d never seen, bodies writhed in pantomimes of delight. Nathan stood before them, the whip dripping with crimson. She blinked, unable to accept what she saw.

“Nathan stood there. There were others on the floor. They were all naked. The swishing sound was a whip. The leather kept striking the woman and she’d scream. But not in pain. It sounded like—”

“Ecstasy.” Gabriel felt the shudder course through her. “Did he see you?”

“No. The area was too dark. He was too engrossed. I don’t know how long I stood there watching him beat her. Everywhere. But then I noticed she wasn’t moaning. Not crying. Not screaming. Her head was limp. There was blood on her mouth. Oh.”

She lifted her hands to cover her own mouth. Jagged pain scraped nerves already throbbing from the dark recollections. “He was hitting her so hard, so brutally. They were all enjoying it. They didn’t notice that she was gone, I thought.” She swallowed, the motion painful. “Then he cut her down, Gabriel. Laid her on the floor. And they did things to her. Terrible things.”

“What did you do?”