I swallow. “We want to go home.”

Raucous laughter erupts from his mouth, and I feel his spit mist my face. I hold back a gag.

“You are home. I’m your master now,” Earl says once his laughter has ebbed. “Is kitten ready to play?”

No, no, no.

Earl loosens his belt buckle as he descends on me with a sickening, lust-filled gaze. I start inching away, kicking my legs, swinging my head back and forth in protest.

“You sick bastard… you’ll never get away with this,” Dean shouts, yanking his chains forward as the veins in his neck bulge and pulsate. “When I get out of here I will beat you into dogmeat if you lay another hand on her. I promise you that.”

Earl chuckles, unthreatened by the warning. “Don’t be jealous, doggie. You’ll get your turn.”

What the hell? I jerk my head towards Dean, wondering if he is also going to be subject to Earl’s vile acts. Oh, God. The thought makes my stomach pitch.

“Do what you want to me. Leave her alone.”

Dean’s words only tighten the coil of unease in my gut. Why is this man throwing himself to the wolves for me?

He hates me. I hate him.

But I don’t have time to sort through the confusion because Earl is tugging up the hem of my t-shirt and fondling my bare breasts in his sweaty palms.

“No… please,” I whisper. My voice is weak, and my fight is futile. My body still rejects Earl’s advances as much as it can, but eventually I go limp and numb, my eyes searching for Dean.

Dean talks me through it like he did last time.

Look at me, Cora. Focus on me. Nothing else is real. It’s only me and you.

I sink underwater once more and let myself drown.

“I’m cold.”

The sun is setting and our only light source begins to eclipse. A chill has settled in my bones. I’m not sure if it’s the cold cement against my exposed skin or my reality stabbing into me like icicles, freezing my veins.

Both, I’m sure.

I’m lying against the pole, listless and paralyzed. The last forty-eight hours, along with all the long, foreboding hours to come, have taken their toll on me. I’m mentally drained.

And so, so cold.

Dean looks ashen and equally rundown, but he’s spent the entire day talking to me, telling me stories, and trying to lift my spirits. I find that my stone walls are crumbling in the presence of his alter-ego.

He casts his sympathetic eyes on me, trailing them along my naked legs. The muscles in his jaw tick. “I meant what I said,” he says to me, his tone low and hardened. “I’m getting us out of this. And I’m going to kill him for hurting you.”

I’m unsure of what to say to such a bold promise, so I force a tight smile that has no intention of reaching my eyes. “You really think we’re getting out of here?” I ask timidly.