“And did you really think I’d just let you off the hook that easily?”
The last trace of amusement vanished from Ruby’s face.
No sooner had she spoken than she pulled a long whip from behind her back.
The leather glistened under the light, but up close, you could see the cold glint of sharp metal barbs woven along its length.
Gennifer froze, her body reacting before her mind could—she shuddered violently.
Ruby’s eyes narrowed, intent on catching every flicker of emotion on Gennifer’s face.
Those wide, terrified eyes only made Ruby feel a twisted sense of satisfaction.
She ran her fingers slowly along the smooth leather handle, her gaze locked on every change in Gennifer’s expression.
This whip—she’d gone out of her way to get it, just for this moment.
“You…”
Gennifer could only stare, wide-eyed and paralyzed, at the weapon in Ruby’s hand.
Frieda, too, was caught off guard, so stunned she couldn’t react at first.
A single scream tore through the room.
Gennifer collapsed to the floor, her elegant dress splitting open with a sharp rip, leaving an angry red welt streaked across her pale skin.
A wild, almost feral look flashed in Ruby’s eyes before she forced herself back under control.
She’d had plenty of time to think while recuperating in the hospital. The more she pieced things together, the more convinced she became that all her recent suffering, every moment spent looking over her shoulder, had Gennifer’s fingerprints all over it.
If anyone knew this whip, it should be her.
“Mom! It hurts!” Gennifer’s voice was ragged, her face contorted with pain as she lay gasping on the floor, all traces of her refined composure gone.


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