Doesn't matter. The bitch lied to you.

You cross the room as she’s opening her mouth, and before she can make a sound you slap her hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor. “I told you what would happen if you fucked with me,” you growl.

“Wait, no! I did what you said. I’ve been good! I’ve been good!” she desperately protests.

“You lied to me, bitch,” you say, leaning down over her. ‘I went to where you said Chanel and Rose went last night. It’s just an old shed full of tools and shit. They never went there. You lied to me.”

“No, no, I didn’t lie, I didn’t lie!” she says, her eyes wide and panicked. “They were in there, they were in there!”

“Why would some rich bitches go hang out in a tool shed?” you stay, straddling her. “You’re fucking with me. What do you want me to cut off first, huh? What do I cut first?”

“Oh god oh god don’t hurt me,” she moans. “I wasn’t lying. They’re going there again tonight. See?” She holds out a crumpled piece of paper, torn in half and taped together. “Rose had a note and she threw it out and I found it. I think, I think it means they’re going there again tonight. I can take you, I can show you, don’t hurt me. Please. Please.”

You snatch the note from her shaking hand. In an elaborate script it reads Sanctum. Appointed hour.

“I can show you, I can show you, don’t hurt me, don’t kill me, please,” she begs.