Fear streaks through me as I shake my head violently, recalling the pain. The open flesh, the scars. I can't go through that again. I won't survive it. I’d rather die than feel that level of agony again.

“It could always be worse,” he tells me. “You think I’m the monster, but you don’t have any idea what he’s truly capable of.” Theron steps forward then, cracking the whip against his hand before he raises it into the air and lasers in on me. "I'm only sorry that it has to be you."

Instinct has me reaching for a weapon from the table. I don’t even know what it is until I raise my arm and catch a glimpse of the long wooden paddle. It’s heavy and awkward, and it brings back the memory of that fucking lamp. The lamp I smashed over the courtesan’s head.

She died. And I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t want to kill Theron, but I know I’m past the point of pleading with him. Something in him has snapped. His darkness has taken over, a darkness I didn’t even know lived in him.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” My lip trembles as I try to skirt around him, moving toward the wall. “Don’t make me.”

He snorts as if the thought is so amusing. As if I ever could.

“Look, if you want to get back at Judge, I can help you,” I lie. “We can figure something—”

Crack.

The whip lashes out at me so fast I don’t even have time to react before it cuts into my wrist and the heavy paddle clatters to the floor.

A silent scream heaves from my lips as I try to run, but Theron captures me by the hair and yanks me back against him. I thrash and fight, trying to twist in his arms and get away, but he’s not having it. He’s not going to let me go, and he’s so strong, I know I can’t really hurt him. That’s why he laughed at the very idea of it.

Hope is a dying ember, but I can’t give up. I throw my head back into his chin, and he grunts before wrapping his hand around my throat and squeezing.

“Behave,” he growls. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

I claw at his hands, trying to drag air into my lungs as my vision darkens and real fear soaks into my veins, slowing everything. Gradually, I become too weak to fight. My slaps are sluggish, my body boneless, and I know when I start to collapse, I’m screwed.