The knot in Abby's stomach twists and turns as the lights of the city appear on the highway ahead of them. She looks out the window of the limousine, feeling like she's going to be sick.
She looks away, to where Travis is sitting. He hasn't spoken since the flight, lost in his own thoughts. Tallahassee - it brings out the worst in everyone, Abby thinks.
They drive further into the city, with its regular quiet nighttime energy. It's still early, only just past nine, but already it feels asleep to Abby, compared to Tampa.
Only when they're in the center of town is there any life - college kids from Florida State, already drunk and staggering along the streets outside the bars. Abby sees one girl fall, only to be picked up by a guy in a letterman jacket, and guided into a dark doorway.
Abby looks away.
She closes her eyes, and concentrates on the gentle rocking of the car.
A few minutes later, the car stops. Abby opens her eyes - Travis is staring at her.
"Ready?" he asks.
"For what?"
"You'll see."
Travis opens the door. They're in an alleyway, dark apart from a light above one door. Abby can feel the deep beat of music coming from somewhere underneath.
The door opens, and a security guard is standing there. There's a sign on the wall inside that says LUST. Travis walks inside - in a way that makes Abby uncomfortable.
Abby hesitates. She takes out her phone and types a message to Mike.
I'm sorry. For everything. I'm in Tallahassee with Travis Denham at some place called LUST. I don't know what's happening, but I'll call you as soon as I can.
She puts her phone away and walks inside.
Steps lead down, further and further underground, dimly lit with red lights. The beat of the music grows stronger.
Finally Abby reaches a door. She opens it.
It leads to a club like Abby has never seen before. She stands in the doorway staring.
The entire club is bathed in red light, red as blood. The furniture is all white and expensive - the seating for the most wealthiest men in the city. On podiums, barely-dressed women dance provocatively, writhing to the serpentine beats of the music.
Abby slowly walks into the club, looking around. She finally spots Travis standing near the bar. He smiles as she approaches.
"I have something to show you."
"More than this?"
Travis laughs. "Much more."
He leads her to the back of the club and through a large metal door.
The room beyond is quieter. There are less men here - but they look wealthier. More important.
Abby hesitates again. She feels panicked, her whole body telling her to run. Travis sees she's stopped and walks back to her.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't feel well."
Travis puts his hand out to take hers.
"Do you trust me?" he says.
Abby thinks of Mike. She doesn't trust Travis - but she doesn't dare tell him.
"Yes," she says.
Travis smiles and takes her hand, leading her to the back corner of the room where there's a dark booth.
Abby sees someone move in the booth, and stand up. The person's face falls into the light, and Abby stops breathing.
"Well, you shouldn't," Travis says.
Abby can't move. She can only stare at the man in front of her - Peter Montague. The face that keeps her up at night, the vision of her nightmares.
"Hello, Abby," Peter says. "It's been a long time."
He gestures to someone behind her, and suddenly a hand holding a damp cloth is clamped over her mouth. She struggles, but soon her vision goes black and her mind drifts off into nothingness...