CLARA’S POV “Get down on your knees,” he commanded, his voice low and firm, sending a sudden, prickling shiver straight down my spine. My head was spinning, heavy and hazy from the shots of alcohol, making the concrete room tilt around me. I obeyed without thinking, sinking down until my bare knees pressed against the cold, rough ground. My breath hitched in my throat as my pulse hammered against my ribs. I listened to his boots scuff against the floor as he turned, reaching for something nearby. When he stepped back into my space, a dark cloth blindfold rested between his fingers. “You’re about to be ruined by three men tonight,” he whispered against my ear, his hot breath fanning over my skin. The words made my stomach tighten into a knot of nervous anticipation. Before I could speak, the smooth fabric was pulled tight over my eyes, swallowing everything in pitch darkness. Instantly, the rest of my senses spiked—every breath, every quiet shift of weight, every low rustle of clot
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