Jane was a psychologist, so naturally, her words carried weight with Mike. But I didn’t want to be hit anymore—much less die in this hellhole.
As Mike’s next slap came flying, I summoned all my strength and dodged.
The slap missed.
To please Mike, the host grabbed my hair with a mocking grin, forcing my head up. "Looks like our stress-relief toy has a bit of an attitude!"
"Mr. Genevan, as tonight’s top bidder, you get two special bonus rounds on the house."
The host publicly recited all kinds of shameful deeds I had supposedly committed while skirting the edge of legality.
After that, Mike no longer held back.
He tossed aside his bloodstained gloves and his slender fingers slid down the list of "special programs"—each one more brutal than the last, sending chills through me.
Sensing my fear, he deliberately paused at each item, commenting on them one by one.
Just last night, these very hands had tenderly prepared soup for me.
Now, they were soaked in my blood.
His gaze lingered on the line labeled "Rebellion Correction."
He chuckled softly, "This one. Karen loves studying human bones, so do I. Let’s try them while they’re still alive."