They grabbed me. Tore my dress from my body like it meant nothing. I fought, but it didn’t matter. I was dragged to the center of the deck, bare under the spotlight, salt water drying on my skin.
The whip cracked before I could scream. The first lash tore through skin and nerves, lightning-bright pain flashing across my back. Guests gasped. Some turned away. Some watched. The second hit made me stumble. The third made me bleed. By the fourth, I was coughing…violently. I tasted copper. Then blood hit the floor. A lot of it.
I fell to my knees, trembling, arms barely holding me up as more blood spilled from my mouth.
I heard Hakeem’s footsteps running. He knelt in front of me, cupping my face roughly.
“What the fuck! Harmony?!”
My lips were red. Dripping. I tried to speak but couldn’t. Then behind him Margaret suddenly doubled over, coughing loud, gagging. Dramatic, practiced.
“Something’s wrong,” she sobbed. “I can’t breathe…”
That was all it took. Hakeem stood up in panic. Shouted toward the bridge.
“Get the med team! I need the fucking helipad cleared, NOW!”
They carried Margaret away like she was made of gold. And me? He turned cold again. Didn’t even glance back.