“Cuff him,” Bill said, throwing a rope that was behind the altar toward them. “And then tie that to his ankles.”

Steve didn’t move as they put the handcuffs on his wrists in front of him this time and then tied the rope from the cuffs to his ankle. Hanging his head, he shook, trying to contain his rage. He glanced toward the pledge with the gun and calculated his odds. He closed his eyes and despair wrung the life from his soul because he knew if he took that gamble, he’d lose.

The knowledge of what was about to happen didn’t help his state of mind. It clouded everything and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to stop them. Unable to watch the brutality in front of him, he stared at the floor, hearing the box of condoms being ripped open and the shuffling sounds of a package opening.

Jennifer’s uneven wheezing drowned out the remaining sounds and he closed his eyes, willing his ears to shut out her sobs. He wished he still had the blindfold and headphones on.

“I want him to watch.”

Bill’s voice penetrated his concentration and his eyes snapped open to the graceful arc of the pentagram painted on the floor.

Fingers snapped and someone grabbed a handful of his hair, yanking his head back so he couldn’t help but watch.

Bill loomed over Jennifer, his hands pushing her thighs. “We get to fuck her until the full moon fills the stain glass window. I figure we have a little over three hours before that happens.” He smiled and with a violent thrust of his hips, buried his member in her, making her scream in pain.

“I’m going to kill you,” Steve growled. “I swear.” He looked at her face. Tears flowed and her teeth clenched in pain as her green eyes locked with his.

“This is nothing compared to what he’ll do to you,” Bill said, pumping hard, his laughter filled the small space.

Steve mumbled under his breath, swearing vengeance, swearing he’d rip each of them apart. None of his whispered words were heard over Jennifer’s cries, each painful sob punctuated with a grunt until Bill moaned and flopped on top of her.

He crawled off, stripping the used condom and dropping it to the floor before slipping his robe back. Picking up the dagger as another fraternity member took his place, he headed in Steve’s direction.

Steve struggled against the bonds and the hand holding his head in place.

Bill squatted in front of Steve. “Next time maybe I’ll fuck her up the ass in memory of Adam. That’s what his plan was,” he laughed and tapped the flat end of the blade on his lips, contemplatively raising an eyebrow. “Actually that’s in my list of to-dos as well.”

Steve’s guttural roar reverberated off the walls, scraping the lining of his throat, and he renewed his thrashing efforts. Sudden, blinding pain gripped his arm and Steve blinked, lowering his gaze to the dagger embedded in his flesh. Jennifer’s protest brought his glance back to her in time for Bill to yank the blade out.

“No!” Jennifer yelled, focused on him instead of the animal assaulting her.

Steve didn’t make a sound. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them back up when Bill yanked a handful of his hair. The drugs helped to keep the physical pain detached and surreal.

The mental anguish, on the other hand, was beyond his limitations.

The horror of their actions mixed with his own arousal sparked shame and fury to layer one after the other across his chest, pressing down on him until even drawing a breath hurt. Tears continued in a constant stream down his face as he watched the woman he loved raped and ravaged by his fraternity brothers.

Memorizing each depraved act, Steve swore they would never see the halls of justice.

When they’d each had a turn, Jake unchained her and pulled her to the edge of the altar, grasping a handful of her hair to keep her in place. The inside of her thighs and lower back sported ugly red and purple bruises from the repeated assaults.

Jennifer gagged and her hand flew to her mouth, covering it.

“You throw up and he dies,” Jake said, yanking her head back to make sure she had the full view of the next ritual. He nodded toward Bill.

Steve held her gaze, even when Bill placed the tip of the dagger in the middle of one of the round circles near his left clavicle. A calm layer of numbness settled over him dulling the pain, dulling his physical senses and neutralizing his emotions. He’d do anything to protect her, even if it meant dying and as the dagger rose, that’s exactly what he thought was coming.

“I love you,” he whispered and then the dagger pierced his skin. Sharp pain followed, grinding and morphing as Bill pulled the blade out again, leaving a burning bloody path. The room swooned, but Steve clung to consciousness, his jaw tight and his eyes blinking to keep focus.

“Get him off of there,” Jake commanded.

Bill dragged Steve off the pentacle, relinquishing him to Joe.

During the transfer, the rope between Steve’s hands and ankles snapped and he blinked again, inhaling a deep breath at the turn of events. The dagger didn’t hit any major organs. His lungs still worked, his heart still beat and his vision cleared, sharper than before because of the pain but he didn’t emit a sound.

Bill traded the dagger for Jennifer, taking her by the hair and yanking her into the center of the pentacle. “On your knees,” he said.

With the clarity of mind also came waves of murderous images and in each one, Bill played a significant role, his imaginary screams of pain bringing a slight smile to Steve’s lips. Knives and blood trailed in his vision path, blocking out the scene before him—the scene of Jennifer on her knees sucking Bill’s dick while the fraternity brothers chanted an incantation in Latin. As Bill sped up, the incantation reached a crescendo and he barely noticed the goblet pressed to his skin below his bloody wound.

Bill took a step back and Jake pulled the full challis away from Steve’s skin.

* * * *

Of all the emotions snaking in her skin, anger welled to the surface and Jennifer stood on shaky legs and punted. The top of her foot connected with Bill’s balls, doubling him over. His high-pitched scream muffled when her knee slammed into his face, breaking his nose, and she let out a cry worthy of a warrior. Satisfaction, vindication and adrenaline pumped through her veins, and she gathered herself for another blow. Her fist formed a tight ball and cocked back when Jake spoke.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he said calmly. Her gaze jumped from Bill’s bloody face to Jake.

The rush in her veins fizzled, coating her skin with a cold sweat that sent shivers straight to her bones. Jake had the tip of the dagger to Steve’s throat. Her fists dropped along with the welling shimmer of hope. When she turned back to Bill, the back of his hand smacked across her cheek and she spun, landing on her hands and knees on the cold floor. Her face throbbed with stinging heat where he connected and her vision blurred through the sudden layer of tears that sprung.

“Clean up that blood,” Jake demanded, and motioned to the drops in the pentacle from Bill’s nose.

Joe tossed her Steve’s shirt and she wiped up the few droplets of blood on the floor. Her eyes kept going back to the tip of the knife against Steve’s throat, a small bead of blood sliding down his skin from the sharp edge. She met his gaze and this time he was fully there, his soul penetrating hers. Pain and failure inscribed in the blue of his irises and she bit her lip, trying to convey to him that this wasn’t his fault. The self-blame and responsibility in his eyes cut her deeper than anything else that had happened. She could deal with the physical abuse, the fear, the pain, even the thought of dying, but seeing the depth of his pain tore her apart.

“Good girl, now toss it out of the circle,” Jake said, pulling her gaze away from Steve.