by S. Massery
I can’t put my finger on him. Whether he’s good or bad or a mixture of everything wrapped up in grief. I just don’t know.
At least the drive passes quickly. Willa talks about her art history class, Taryn mentions a student government meeting she sat in on, and then we’re there.
We pile onto the sidewalk. Here, there are actual fraternity houses. Big ones on large, manicured lawns. We’re only a short drive from campus, but it feels like an entirely different world. Not like the frat brownstones all smushed together in one block.
“We’re here!” Willa yells. “This is the hockey team’s house. They’re sort of looped in with frats, same as the baseball and football teams.”
“Wow.” I glance around. There are so many people, enough to make my head spin.
No masks. And the twisting in my gut is ramping back up—but it’s manageable.
This is a baby step.
“James!” someone yells.
Willa squeals and throws her hands up, rushing to meet a guy jogging toward us.
The dude is massive. He picks her up and spins her around, then sets her on her feet. He’s dressed as the guy from Grease. Slicked-back dark hair, white t-shirt, and leather jacket. It’s a cool look, helped along by how handsome he is.
Willa clears her throat and turns back. “Guys, this is Sam, my best friend since… literally forever. Sam, this is Taryn, Jeff, and Skylar.”
We all wave, and Sam nods to each of us.
“Well, come on in. There are some other Ashburn students here already.”
Taryn perks up. “Really? Who?”
He shrugs. “Didn’t catch their names. We don’t usually let dudes in, but they know our captain.”
Sam leads us into the house. It’s like being swallowed whole by noise.
I stick close to Taryn and Willa, although Jeff disappears almost immediately. We’re handed cups of beer from the keg, and while the girls both cheers, I set mine down on a table.
“Not in the mood to imbibe?” Someone slings their arm around my shoulders, pulling me to their side.
Figuring it’s a drunk ass, I try to shove away.
Except the grip tightens.
I stare up at one of the twins from Howl. Liam’s friend. And since Liam’s basically laid claim on me, I relax a bit. The expression on his face is light, open. He’s smiling at me.
“I, um, don’t trust it,” I say. “Which twin are you?”
He winks. “Smart girl. Lucky for you, I have a solution.”
I raise my eyebrow, and he finally releases me. I turn to face him fully, and he offers me a bottle of beer.
Capped.
“Yes?”
I don’t have a reason to say no, and alcohol might lessen this knot in my chest. At least I’ve found a familiar face. Another one. “Sure.”
His smile widens into a grin, and he taps it against the corner of a table. The cap pops off, and he hands the cool bottle to me.
“Thank you.”
He nods and lifts his own toward me. I cheers him and take a swig, then another. Someone in a monkey suit rushes by, knocking into me, and the twin steadies my arm.
“You seem unsettled, Skylar.”
I shrug, glancing around. “It’s just a lot.”
“A party?”
“Yeah.” I can barely hear him over the music.
“It’s no different than the crowd at Howl,” he says. “Actually…”
More people are pouring into the house by the minute, driving us closer together. My body is slick with sweat.
I snap back to focus on him. “What?”
“We’re starting back up again,” he informs me.
I nod slowly. “That’s cool.”
“Liam, though.” He taps his chin. “He’s been tough to nail down. Do you think he’s scared?”
“He’s not afraid of anything.” I take another sip, avoiding his gaze.
“Slow down there, killer,” he says.
I glance at him. “You didn’t say which twin you are.”
He smirks. “Colt. So, what do you think?”
“About what?” I brush off the spider-crawling feeling. “Taryn—”
I try to find her, or Willa, but they’ve disappeared.
Forgotten about me.
A moment of panic threatens to take over. White spots flash in front of my eyes. I force myself to breathe, counting on the inhale and exhale.
It doesn’t help.
Colt takes my arm. “You’re wobbling, Buckley. Maybe you should get some fresh air.”
I let him lead me outside. It’s like walking through a fun house, though. People leering at me, the masks. Why is everyone wearing masks?
We get out on the front porch, and Colt makes me sit down.
“Give me your phone,” he says. “I’ll have someone pick you up.”
I hand it to him and close my eyes. The ground keeps tilting, and the roaring in my ears hasn’t gone away. If anything, the music’s gotten louder.
“I have Skylar,” Colt says to whoever he called.
Alarm blares through me, and I lurch upright. “You didn’t call Liam—”
My legs give out.
Colt watches me fall to my knees, and his warm expression is gone. He doesn’t make a move to stop me.
“This is the price,” he says. “Come fight for her, or I’ll keep her.”
He shoves my phone into his pocket and hauls me up again.
“What are you doing?” I mumble. My mouth is full of cotton. “I don’t…”
“Feel good?” He rolls his eyes. “If you had drunk it slower, it wouldn’t be hitting you like this.”
I try to pull away, but his grip is iron. “I’ve drank beer before.”
“Probably not with Klonopin in it, though.”
It takes a minute for my mind to filter through drugs I’m familiar with.
“A sedative,” he offers. “Come on, Skylar, don’t fight me. Or we’ll have to do this the hard way.”
“How?” I manage. I’m not sure if I’m asking what the hard way is, or how he managed to spike an unopened bottle of beer.
“The perfect deception, don’t you think? No one would ever notice the tiny hole in the cap. A nice little injection. Crushed-up pill, dissolve it in liquid, inject it. You fell for it.”
“Have others?” I can barely even keep my eyes open, but my adrenaline is spiking. Everything in my body is screaming danger, but I’m sluggish. I’m weighed down.
“I save this for those who think they’re tough.”
I finally glance around. He’s leading me toward a car, the lights flashing. He has keys in his hand.
I can’t get in there.
Focus, Skylar.
With one massive movement, I grab his keys and throw them behind us. He releases me with a growl. I fall to the ground, digging my fingers into the damp grass. I can’t stand, so I crawl away.
He watches me. Keeps pace with me. He’s wearing boots, dark jeans. No costume.
I hate every fucking second of it, and darkness pulls at my mind.
“The hard way, then,” he says.
Blinding pain explodes from my ribs, and I fall onto my side. He kicked me.
He grabs my wrists and picks me up, throwing me over his shoulder. It would be better if I just… blacked out. Let whatever’s going to happen, happen.
He’s fucking kidnapping me and threatening Liam in the process.
The trunk of his car opens, and he drops me in. There’s no ease, no ceremony. My head hits the corner, and my vision goes dark.
24
Liam
I stare at my phone, unsure of what I just heard.
Colt.
Pressure points.
I don’t have to wait long, just another few seconds before a text from an unknown number arrives: Fight in twenty minutes, LBU Chapel basement.
“Fuck!” I yell.
I dial Theo’s number and hold my breath until he answers.
“I got the
text,” he says without preamble.
“They have Sky,” I say. “I’m going to kill them.”
He pauses, and I realize I’ve given away a lot more of my hand than I normally do. Still, he’s my best friend. If I can’t be honest with him, who can I tell? Who can I count on?
Finally, he says, “Okay, do you have a plan?”
“Fight whoever they want me to, then beat their sorry asses inward.”
He chuckles. “I’ll meet you there.”
Colt has Skylar, and I can only imagine in what sort of condition. Maybe she doesn’t know what’s going on and is just along for the ride.
Doubt it.
My phone beeps another second later, and an image from Colt comes through.
Skylar, leaning against a wall in a dimly lit room. Hands bound, a thick piece of tape over her mouth.
Oh, I’m going to do more than beat him. He’s dead.
25
Sky
Don’t look back.
Pain. Immeasurable pain, but I barely feel it. The roaring in my ears fades to silence.
I jerk awake, like someone threw cold water on me, and scan the room. It’s dark, just a horizontal bar of light coming from under a door. I should get up and get out of here, but my body is slow to respond.
A few problems: I don’t know where I am.
I don’t know how I got here.
And…
Think, Skylar.
Colt called Liam—as far as I know, none of the other kidnapped girls’ boyfriends were called. Not that Liam is my boyfriend, but he might be the closest thing to it.
God, I’m such an idiot.
I tilt my head back against the wall and close my eyes again. This time, I mentally try to take inventory of myself: my legs are curled under me, and I’m pretty sure one is asleep. I can’t feel my toes. I’m still a little sore from my fall, and lying on what feels like concrete must not have helped.
How long have I been here?
Unconscious?
I pat myself down, making sure my clothes are intact. Everything seems to be fine, but worry gnaws at me.
Outside the room, someone cheers. Not someone, but a lot of someones.
I crawl across the room until I touch the door, using the knob to heave myself up. The whole wall vibrates, and footsteps create shadows in the light.
It swings open, and Colt fills the doorway.
“Up and at ’em, sunshine.” He flicks the light on.
I wince, bringing my hands up to cover my eyes.
He grabs my wrists, looping something around them. Rope.
No, no, no—
“Stop resisting,” he orders, yanking me forward. “This isn’t supposed to be painful. You’re just leverage.”
“Did you kill Amber and Natalie?” I ask.
He pauses, then laughs. “No. Did you think you were going to make the ten o’clock news as the next missing girl?”
I don’t answer, mainly because I wasn’t convinced. I’m still not—Colt could be lying through his teeth.
Somehow, though, I doubt it.
He leans in. “The show’s about to start.”
He guides me out, the grip on my upper arm tight. I realize halfway down the hall that I’ve lost both my shoes, but we don’t slow down. I try to ignore the way the rope on my wrists slides against my skin. It shouldn’t hurt, but it’s all I can focus on.
“Please just untie me,” I say. “I won’t try to run away.”
“Hardly.”
We step into a large room. It’s already packed with people, but there’s a clear empty circle in the center. Only… it’s not so empty.
RJ stands just outside the chalk, his hands raised. “The show we’ve all been waiting for, ladies and gentlemen!”
The crowd cheers.
No one even looks twice at Colt and me.
“The most sought after and requested fighter is back under our roof, and he’s facing a dangerous opponent.” RJ twists around, catching sight of me for a quick second. A frown flashes across his face, but then it’s gone. Replaced by a charming smile for his audience.
“Did he not know about your stunt?” I say to Colt.
His fingers dig deeper in my arm. “Shut up, slut.”
I roll my eyes. Now that we’re out in the open, the fear is easing. There’s still a lot he could do… but Liam is here.
“Do you think he wants to save you?” Colt asks in my ear. He steps behind me and pinches my jaw, swiveling my head to another entrance.
Liam walks in, head raised. I can’t read his expression. He seems ready to fight. He’s shirtless, and his jeans hang low on his hips.
“He hates you,” Colt continues. His fingers are bruising on my jaw. “He didn’t want to fight because of you. Because the threat you pose to him. But here you are, unable to do a damn thing about it.”
It was Whitney. I’m so close to saying that out loud, but I can’t. He wouldn’t believe me—who would?
“Liam Morrison!” RJ yells. “Back from hiatus. Let’s give him a warm welcome.”
The crowd surges forward, to the edges of the chalked circle, and we’re carried along with them. Suddenly we’re at the front, and Liam is directly in front of me.
His gaze coasts over me, then flicks to Colt.
The latter pulls me back against his chest.
RJ suddenly appears, slipping between Liam and me. “You finish this fight, you get her back. It isn’t how I wanted—”
“Fuck off,” Liam growls.
“Just make it memorable,” Colt says. “Give us a show.”
“A show?” Liam stares at him.
Who could’ve predicted Howl was that important to the twins? That they’d result to drugging me and blackmailing Liam into fighting…
“Morrison,” a voice booms. “You can’t even face your opponent?”
Liam frowns, touching my cheek once before spinning around.
His finger leaves a trail of heat in its wake. I hate that Colt is in my head, telling me everything I see in Liam’s expression is wrong. I kept him away from Howl. I ruined this for him.
“David vs. Goliath,” RJ says to the crowd. “Liam is our fearless sling-thrower, and Benji… well, maybe this time the giant will prevail, huh?”
He motions for the two fighters to join him in the center.
“First to exit the circle loses. First to pass out loses. If there’s no clear winner after three minutes, we go by blood drawn.”
Both fighters nod.
The giant, Benji, is huge. More akin to Liam’s friend Baker than Liam. He must have a hundred pounds on him.
I tug on my wrists again, trying to loosen the knot. The drug must be wearing off faster, because I register the cold seeping into my feet. Liam glances over at us once more, then Colt pulls me farther back. People slip in front of us and obscure my view.
RJ calls the start of the fight, and I crane my neck to see.
I expect the show. Blood.
Benji swings at Liam immediately, at an advantage because of his reach. But Liam… he moves like lightning, ducking under and inside his opponent’s guard.
His punch comes out of nowhere, and the whole room seems to pause at the crack of knuckles against Benji’s jaw. Benji’s head whips to the side, blood spraying out of his mouth, and he takes a quick step back.
But Liam isn’t done. He delivers an uppercut that snaps Benji’s head back. He hops back delicately, watching his opponent for less than a second.
Benji’s eyelids flutter, and then…
Well, the giant falls.
We all stand in shocked silence for a moment, the huge man crumpled at Liam’s feet in the center of the circle.
“Get him out of here,” RJ yells.
Liam’s gaze swings around and finds me. He stalks toward us.
Colt shoves me forward, through the crowd. His hand fists in my hair, keeping my head tilted back. Something sharp digs into my throat. “No,” he yells. “Fight again.”
> Liam pauses, his hands floating up next to him. “Easy, man.”
The crowd edges away from us.
“Fight. Again.”
RJ whistles, drawing attention back to him in the center of the ring. “Come on, Morrison. Be a good sport.”
I flinch at Liam’s expression. He’s murderous.
But someone else—another fighter—steps over the chalk line and raises his hands.
The crowd seems to take me being at knifepoint in stride. This is Howl, anyway. Blood is just part of the game.
I’m part of the game now.
“See, sweetheart?” Colt says in my ear. “They want what I want. They don’t give a fuck.”
“Liam does,” I say.
A knife at my throat, a room full of people… and I’m not screaming for help. I might be as crazy as them.
“Are you okay?” Liam asks me. He ignores the pacing man behind him, RJ and Colt, the screaming people around us.
I lift one shoulder—it’s the best I can do under these circumstances. I’m not dead, so…
He tears his gaze away from me and rotates. The audience can sense the shift in the room, because the noise level skyrockets. It rattles around in my ears.
“Morrison, round two,” RJ yells. “He obviously needs no introduction. And facing him is Leroy Douglas. A legend in his own right.”
There’s a flurry of activity as people move toward another guy, one who holds a pad of paper, scribbling furiously.
Leroy says something under his breath. The two circle each other, and when Liam is on the opposite side, I catch his shit-eating grin.
It feels like hours later that RJ claps his hands. “Fighters ready?”
My heart seems to jump into my throat.
Both fighters nod and resume circling each other. I expect Liam to do as he did before, to dominate, but maybe he’s worried that will only get both of us killed. It’s clear that Colt has an idea of how this should go.
“He’s fighting,” I say. “You may as well release me.”
Leroy springs forward, faster than I would’ve anticipated. He gets in a few hits before Liam throws him off.
Colt snickers. “Yeah? I think I want a bit more than that. I want Liam to lose. And you’re the key to that.”