Chloe’s pov
My knuckles were white, my whole arm shaking so hard I could barely hold the weapon.
Two yards in front of my boots, Nash lay on his knees in the mud.
His broad back was stripped bare beneath his torn vest, his skin pale, bruised, and slick with cold sweat. Heavy iron chains dragged his arms high above his head, anchored to the stone pillars on either side. He didn't fight the iron. He didn't struggle.
His dark eyes were locked on mine, steady and clear through the dark hair falling over his bloodied face.
"One," Fernando rasped from behind me, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "Or Shaun takes the old woman's hand."
Across the corridor, Shaun grinned, pressing the silver blade of his hunting knife directly against Lisa's pinky finger. Lisa let out a muffled sob,
