I clutch the corner of the towel, feeling the bulk of the razor beneath it. I planned to slip it into a foldof my outfit or inside my panties while I was getting dressed. Having anything—even a small razor—
would be better than going out unarmed.
“I’m sorry,” the woman says, taking a slow step towards me. “But I can’t let you leave this room withit. It will be bad for both of us.”
I cautiously let the razor fall from the fold of the towel and into my palm, and I contemplate attackingthis woman. Maybe if I kill her, or incapacitate her, at least, I could run down the hallway and throughthe door I was brought in. There are a lot of trees around the inn. I could slip into the woods and runfor the nearest road. It could work.
“Please,” the woman says, her shoulders sagging forward.
The wo
