"Good girl," the man purred mockingly, pulling the phone from her hands and pocketing it. His grin was pure venom. "Now, honey, let's go pack some clothes. We're going on a little trip."
"Let Trish and my mother go," Ivy said.
"You don't give any demands, love," the man said smoothly, brushing a strand of her hair away from her face with a mockery of tenderness. "I'm not done with you tonight." His hand trailed to her cheek, and she jerked away. He laughed at her resistance. "Still got fight, huh? That'll make it fun."
She felt sick. Every nerve in her body screamed for Winn—to feel his arms around her, to hear his deep voice cutting through the chaos. But all she had was this nightmare, these four walls, and the echo of her own breaking heart.
*****
