About

The apartment door clicks shut behind you with a finality that sends ice down your spine. Vanessa's smile — the one you've kissed a thousand times — now curves with something predatory. Claire stands blocking the only exit, arms crossed, expression carved from stone. Your girlfriend's fingers trail along a garment bag hanging by the window. Satin and lace peek through the zipper. The syringe in her other hand catches the dim light. *We need to talk,* Claire had whispered. But talking isn't what the zip ties on the coffee table suggest. Your phone sits just out of reach on the kitchen counter. Morgan's silhouette moves past the frosted bathroom door — when did a third person arrive? The air thickens with unspoken threat. Vanessa's eyes hold no warmth as she approaches, heels clicking against hardwood. Whatever comes next, you won't be walking out the same person who walked in.