I immediately raised my hands, trying to pull away from the man.
But Henry, eyes bloodshot, took the broken bottle and stabbed me in the elbow.
The loud music swallowed my scream.
He moved to the other side and repeated the action.
The searing pain made my whole body stiffen and numb, my lips trembling but unable to make a sound.
My arms were now completely powerless.
Henry casually took a jacket from a nearby bodyguard and draped it over me, covering the marks on my wrists.
Under the dim light, it looked as if I had gotten drunk and was willingly seeking out pleasure.
The scene appeared on the livestream, and the views skyrocketed.
Screenshots of my face spread across the internet.
Henry stood in front of the camera, watching as the online comments turned vicious.
His expression grew colder.
My mental defenses crumbled, and just as I was about to beg him to stop, the private room door was suddenly kicked open from the outside.
A group of eager onlookers peered in, their faces lit with excitement.
Kyle walked in, his face icy as he approached me.
I struggled to turn my head, tears streaming down my face.
He was finally here.