Peter grins, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he comes onto her waiting tongue. I look away, unable to tolerate the sight, fighting the urge to spill the contents of my stomach onto the floor. Only for the door to creak open, and Elijah steps inside, meeting my gaze with a grin that’s too eager. “Nico’s in place.”
Peter claps once, the sound echoing through the room like a whistle at kickoff. “Perfect.”
And just like that, the game begins.
Zayden
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
The sound drags me out of the darkness. I blink, coming back to myself. There's an ache behind my eyes, a deep and pulsing throb that makes the whole room tilt. I groan, trying to piece together what the fuck happened. And where the hell am I? Thesmell of pine and dirt has me scanning the room—I can still hear the ocean? So maybe the forest… but which one and why?Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Rain hits the window in heavy drops, echoing through the small room. Tempting my thirst, steady and maddening. I swallow, trying to bring moisture to my dry mouth, but it doesn't work. The last thing I remember is meeting with Greyson, my eyes widened, as the scattered bits of memories began to slowly piece themselves together.
Greyson inches closer. “I’m afraid that I might be next,” he says almost timidly as if he’s ashamed to voice aloud that he’s scared to die. Aren’t most of us… “I need your help, Zayden.”
My help…
I’m kind of tired of people always needing my ‘help.’ I arch a brow, a silent warning that he’s too close. Greyson only smiles, his hand moving to the side of my neck, and I freeze. Not knowing whether to perform like I’m expected to or punch him straight in the dick for touching me. A sharp sting has my hand flying to the spot. Hot lava moves through my bloodstream, scorching everything in its path. I blink once. Twice.
My hand clamps on the spot, eyes widening and watching him step back with a devilish grin on his face. The moon casts a shadow on his beautiful features, making him look like some kind of angel of vengeance. My knees wobble beneath me, and just like the London Bridge…
I fall down.
Hard. Face first. The world tilts on its axis, and I try to lift my head, but it feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. Loud booming claps echo through my mind, each one thunderous, shaking everything beneath me. The room spins and black licks at the corners of my eyes, and before I can fight it, the darkness swallows me whole.
“GREYSON!” I shout, coming out of the memory, and all I feel is rage. “GREYSON!”
My throat burns from all the screaming, but I don’t care. Footsteps move above me, which tells me I’m in a fucking basement. I can’t help the laugh that escapes me; it’s always a fucking basement. And given the deep tissue ache in my shoulders and my lack of ability to move my arms, I’m bound. Looking down at the chair… I chuckle even harder.
“GREYSON!”
The echo of my own voice ricochets off the walls, swallowed by the damp air. I listen—nothing but the steady tapping as the rain continues to fall. A door creaks open above me, spilling a sliver of light into the room. I brace myself, holding my chin up and squaring my shoulders. The ceiling groans as someone descends the stairs.
There’s one. Then two sets of footsteps, both heavy and slow.
I shift my body and pull on my arms, straining against the ropes—only to come to a full stop when I notice who stands in front of me. Christopher Loni appears first, polished like a blob of shit painted in gold. Wearing a light blue suit, tailored to fit his lean figure, white lines run down the fabric—always dressed to impress.Fucking rich pricks!Finally stepping around him, it’s Greyson, who looks like he’s not interested in any of this, so why am I here? My question is answered when Christopher crouches before me, elbows resting on each of his knees, smart enough to leave a gap between us. His expression is unreadable. And then he speaks. “I know you know who killed Asher.”
I bite back the urge to spit at him, plus my throat burns too much anyway. He continues after a deep exhale. “Soon, you won’t have a choice if you want to save them.”
With that, he smiles and rises to his feet. Towering over me, he hacks up his lungs and spits. The hot and thick glob of salivaslides down my forehead and into my brow before settling in my eye, blurring his smug face into a smear of blue.
Greyson looks away, his jaw clenched tight, and I wonder why he looks upset… I shake away the thought, along with a good portion of the spit.
“What did you mean by that?” The question rolls from the tip of my tongue, and his thin lips stretch into a Cheshire grin, his gaze moving to the watch on his wrist before the sound of tires crunching gravel and dirt has our heads turning.
“Looks like you’re about to find out.”