4.
A noise came from the doorway. Damon frowned and looked up, but saw nothing.
Cindy caught his glance. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her palms went damp.
“What is it, Damon?”
He shook his head, trying to push down the strange unease coiling in his chest.
“Nothing.”
Clementine was dragged into a lavish private suite.
A bottle of ice-cold liquor poured over her head. She jolted awake, found herself on a sofa, a greasy, bloated man straddling her.
Cold crawled up her spine. Every drop of blood in her body seemed to freeze, locking her in place.
The man's eyes oozed over her, top to bottom, before he patted her cheek with a lewd grin.
“Now that's a real prize. Once I'm done, the rest of you can have a turn!”
The middle-aged men around the room burst into laughter.
Clementine's pupils contracted. She fought back wildly, and the man struck her across the face.
“Fight me again and I'll sell you to a brothel.”
The blow knocked her head to one side. Her throat locked. Terror coiled around her neck like a snake.
He started tearing at her clothes, his grotesque, lust-crazed face making her stomach heave.
“Be a good girl. Young Mr. Sheridan himself sent you to us. You know who that is in this city?”
The words hit Clementine like a bucket of ice water. Her body went rigid. Her voice shook. “Da...mon?”
The man blinked, then laughed. “Well, well. You actually know him.”
From that moment on, Clementine couldn't hear the man's voice anymore. Only one thought remained.
Damon had handed her over to other men like an object.
Her heart felt as though it were being ripped in two. The pain was instant, sharp, all-consuming. Her vision went black.
The man had her pinned. Something inside her gave way. She stopped fighting.
A single tear slid from the corner of her eye. Her voice tore out of her. “Damon Sheridan, I hate you.”
Out in the hallway, a flushed Damon steadied himself against the wall. His expression changed.
“I just heard Clementine's voice.”
Cindy, trailing behind, stiffened. She tried to redirect him. “You're hearing things, Damon. Why would Clementine be here? Let's just go. You've had too much to drink.”
Inside the room, Clementine heard Damon's voice. She shoved the man off with everything she had and ran for the door.
She ran and screamed. “Damon, help me!”
The door swung open. The man behind her tackled her to the ground.
Clementine's face was streaked with tears. She looked up at the man standing in the doorway, her eyes full of terror, her voice trembling and begging.
“Damon, please. Save me.”
Her clothes were already in shreds. She lay on the floor, hair tangled, the heavy, sweating man pinning her down. The scene could have been mistaken for something else entirely.
One look was all Damon needed. His jaw locked.
He lifted his gaze, his tone flat, barely stirring.
“Isn't this what you wanted? Find yourself a rich man to latch onto.”
“Clementine, you make me sick.”
He didn't spare her another glance. He took Cindy's hand and walked away.
Clementine saw the smug satisfaction on Cindy's face, and the last ember of hope in her eyes died.
She opened her mouth but no sound came out. Her fingers curled into fists so tight the knuckles went white, but it did nothing to stop the suffocating pressure in her chest.
Damon had abandoned her. Again.
The man on top of her pressed down, his wet, nauseating laugh against her neck, his breath reeking.
Clementine closed her eyes in despair and let out a hollow laugh.
Clementine, this is what your life is.
A bang. The door flew open.
Everyone in the room froze and turned toward the entrance.
A girl burst in, face wild with panic. She shoved the man off Clementine, seized her hand, and ran.
Clementine hadn't processed what was happening before a roar erupted behind them. “Get those two back here!”
The girl pulled Clementine into a storage closet, wrapped her arms around her, and broke down. “I'm sorry, Clem. This is all my fault.”
Clementine let out a long breath and wiped the tears from Debbie Abbott's face.
“It's not your fault. I'm the one who misjudged people.”
