24Torture Comes in Many FormsI pace my cell until the door groans open again. Then I freeze, waiting for the heavy plod of Calen’s boots. The passage leading into the cellar is silent. I glance at Abby, who is staring at her knees. She knows Calen will take her next.
Something rustles in the landing, silk over stone, and I start. Vanessa emerges from the shadows like a lioness. She’s changed her clothes. A gold, form-fitting slip barely covers her curves. A small, shimmering vial dangles from a thin chain loped around her neck. How she managed to walk down the stairs without making a sound or tumbling in her needle-slim stilettos is beyond me.
She clears her throat, and Calen’s boots thump into the landing. He pauses just behind Vanessa’s bare shoulder.
His gaze flits to me, and then to
