Over and over Hannah tried to think of some way out, some plan of action that actually had a chance of working, but every option was a dead end. No one was going to save her. People were shot in daylight and nobody saw anything, beaten unconscious in alleys and murdered in the streets... and no one did a thing. She could run up and down every floor in the building screaming bloody murder and the most people would do was sneak a quick peek through a crack in the door. Liam could kill her if he wanted to, and no one would care. She didn't know anyone that well, and besides, other people had died here and nothing ever came of it. Why would she be any different? Tears of frustration stung her eyes, but if there was one thing she absolutely refused to do, it was cry. Tears wouldn't make things any better.
Her fear was evident despite her best attempts to hide it, but the feel of his fingertips brought forth something else: hatred, something she hadn't felt in a long time. She hated herself for being so stupid but she hated him just a little bit more. A sharp intake of breath was her response to the cruel tug on her hair, but even then she never lowered her gaze. The likelihood of her getting out of this unscathed was practically nonexistent, but she was not going to become a submissive victim no matter what he did.
"I bet you have," she muttered, her breathing becoming increasingly labored the closer the knife got to her eye. "And I made it easy, didn't I?" Stupid, stupid - Hannah almost couldn't believe her own idiocy, but as tempting as it was she couldn't completely resign herself to her fate just yet. Pain wasn't unfamiliar to her, and even though every inch of her body recoiled at the thought of that knife drawing blood, she could survive it. She'd wait for her chance, that moment when he thought he had the upper hand and she'd finally given up.