Page 13

I grimaced as my hand stuck to the cardboard coaster, which was cemented to the table with a thick coating of dried-down beer. Everything in here was sticky with it, even the drunkards with the toothless grins in the corner of the room feeding coins into the slot machines.

The Crossed Keys reeked of yeasty ales and air gone stale with regret. It clung to the walls, soaked into the floorboards, and whispered in the dim glow of the hanging lights. I wasn’t sure a place like this would have a phone.

I grabbed a free bar stool beside Hugo and Rosaline, eyeing the three unfamiliar prefects across the table.

“What’s your drink?” Dorian asked.

“Diet coke,” I said flatly, and he laughed at my simple answer, returning to the bar. I needed to hold myself together long enough that I could escape. I tried to recall the lawyer’s phone number in my mind. It was something easy, like 808 – 777…

I fiddled with the bag on my lap, my eyes flitting occasionally to Hugo. Why had he come here? He had everything going for him. It didn’t make sense that he’d join a college like this .

But clearly Evermore was easier on some students. Hugo hadn’t been dragged to initiation. He’d been given a suite.

“You look lost in thought.” Hugo’s voice was butterscotch-sweet. I blinked a few times, as if that could clear the thoughts that were circling my mind.

“It’s just a lot to take in,” I admitted, my grip tightening on the bag. I cast a look over my shoulder at the barkeep. There didn’t seem to be a phone near the register.

“I thought so too,” Hugo admitted, smiling generously.

He really was gorgeous. Not in the way you expected an actor to be, beautiful on screen but disappointing in person.

“We were very lucky to be admitted this late into the year. I wanted to start in September, but I had delays, scheduling conflicts.” He shrugged.

“The world thinks you’re missing.” I hardly noticed when Dorian slammed a bright red drink in front of me. I took a sip gingerly. Vodka cranberry. Not the drink I had requested. “You’d ditch your career for—” I scanned the room. “ This?”

“Of course.” He blinked like I’d said something outrageous. “Everyone has to leave something behind, don’t they? For a chance?”

A chance at what? I wanted to ask.

“Relax, Davenant. Have a drink.” Dorian propped his elbows on the table, eyes glinting. “You’re a confirmed Luminari. You were saved. That’s something worth celebrating.”

“I’m not in the mood.” My fingers curled around the cold glass in front of me, my grip so tight I could feel the pulse in my fingers.

Dorian ran a finger along the rim of his whiskey glass. The candlelight carved angles into his jaw, shadowing the cruel lines of his mouth. He lifted a brow slowly . “Are you a fan of card games, Davenant?”

The shift was almost imperceptible, but I felt it in my ribs. This wasn’t a game. It was a test. And if I played it right, it might cause enough of a distraction that I could make that phone call. I needed a minute to piece together the number, anyway.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a fan.” I leaned in. “But I like poker.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Dorian smirked, brandishing a deck of cards from the pocket inside his jacket, dealing me in. They were chartreuse and strangely patterned, the back of them covered in little diamond shapes with circles in the center. Eyes. For a heartbeat, I swore I saw them move.

Dorian moved leisurely, fingers trailing over the cards before flipping the first one face down. His gaze flicked to mine, all slow amusement. He liked watching me squirm. I liked the idea of poker. The reality? I had no clue how to play, and clearly, this was not the time to learn.

“Ante up.” Dorian took a slow sip of whiskey, watching me over the rim of his glass. Shriveled notes fell onto the table, along with gold coins. Dorian sighed, exasperated. “ No, idiots. Verbal bets and offers. Try using your brains for once.”

No one moved.

Dorian sighed, running a finger along his lower lip. “Fine. Since none of you are remotely creative, the player with the weakest hand gives me… an offering.”

“Boo!” Rosaline pushed out her bottom lip. “We all know what that means, Dorian. Playing with money is more fun, less draining. Besides, we can’t risk our scores like that.”

“No, it isn’t,” Marcus snapped. “We aren’t allowed further than this town. Common money is basically useless to us.”

“It buys our pints,” Hugo pointed out. “Sounds like someone has a losing hand.”

“Sounds like someone is keen on cozying up with Rosaline,” Marcus countered. “Who says we can’t bet with both?”

“It’s settled. We play with common money and I take what I want from the loser.” Dorian snapped his fingers, and the barman arrived with top-shelf single-malt whiskey, pouring him a glass, neat. His head snapped to Rosaline first, and she tossed another coin into the pile.

I glanced at my cards, heat prickling down my neck. The game continued and my eyes narrowed on each of the players, trying to establish their tells.

The cards were all wrong. Not suits, but something like tarot. The Fool. The Nine of Swords. Death. I knew nothing about cards like these, not really. How were they assigning value to them? What constituted a flush?

“Check,” Marcus said, shaking his head as he avoided placing another bet.

“Hold on,” I interjected. “What are the values?”

“It’s not about values,” Dorian placed his hand face down. “It’s about what it pulls from you.” I glared at him. I wonder what he expected me to offer. A secret? A dare? I raised anyway.

“Raise.” I dropped a twenty-pound note onto the pile. Dorian’s smirk deepened, like he was in on some private joke. But my logic was sound. Death and The Hanged Man had to be high-value, right?

Five minutes later I still couldn’t figure out how the hell anyone was playing this game.

Hugo raised his bet on the last round, and I wasn’t feeling confident.

As everyone revealed their hand, I placed mine proudly in front of me, ready to watch the look on Dorian’s face.

He stared at me through narrowed eyes, his mouth contorted with suppressed laughter, and my insides churned.

Then he leaned in, whiskey-warm breath curling against my cheek. “You should have folded.” He paused, smiling, before announcing to the group, “Arabella has the weakest hand.”

A hush rippled through the group, followed by snickering. The heat that flared up my neck had nothing to do with the vodka. My heart thudded dully, my mouth dry. Dorian wasn’t just playing with cards. He was playing with me , and he was winning.

“I’ve never played with tarot cards before,” I snapped as the group snickered. Ruby was laughing—until she wasn’t. She caught my eye, sobering instantly. “I’m not following your rules when you don't even follow the rules of the game. These aren’t standard cards.”

“They weren’t supposed to be,” Dorian said. The room tilted slightly, the air thick and syrupy. I tried to steady my breathing, but something about the eyes on the back of the cards made my head spin. Or, maybe it was just the cheap vodka in my drink.

“Don’t be boring,” Rosaline goaded.

“Ah, man, Dorian,” Hugo shook his head, mussing his straight blond hair. “Give the girl a break. It’s her first night.”

“A bet is a bet, Hugo. It could just as easily have been you,” Dorian replied. I hated the way his cheek dimpled slightly but only on one side when he smirked. He was all arrogance.

“Ruby.” My voice was low, urgent. I nodded toward the back. “Bathroom. Now.”

“Don’t be a sore loser.” The bite of metal pressed against my wrist as I stood, Dorian’s rings. “The offering, Arabella?”

“Fifteen minutes, Dorian. Surely patience is still a virtue, even at Evermore?” He said nothing. Just watched me as I walked away on shaking legs, the burn of his gaze so tacky I felt it all over my skin.

Something dark flickered across his face. I didn’t wait for his answer. I slung my bag over my shoulder and slipped toward the bathroom, holding my breath against the sour reek of spilled ale.

The hallway seemed to close in on me with each step. Laughter from the bar blurred into a low hum behind me, like I’d slipped underwater. I couldn’t breathe, or think. It was like the seconds slipped through my fingers before I could decide how to use them.

“Tough break,” Ruby murmured. “You don’t understand Dorian. What he really is. That offering is going to suck. ”

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure it’s all very freak-show ,” I tucked my bag under my arm. “I need you to distract them for five. I’m calling my lawyer.”

“I mean that literally,” Ruby warned, folding her arms.

“There’s a phone behind the bar, I’m sure.” I started toward the bathroom door, but Ruby blocked me.

“They won’t let you use it. Dorian tips them well so they let us hang out here, but they’re terrified of us. Don’t do this, Arabella.” She brushed a hand against my shoulder, pitying. “Mabel survived. You saw. What’s your lawyer going to do?”

My throat tightened with shame. Maybe she was right. Maybe my plan wouldn’t work. “Get me out of here,” I seethed, trying to push past her.

“No they won’t.” Ruby shook her head.

“Of course they can.” I frowned, but it was clear that I’d never be able to use the phone here. Ruby wasn’t willing to be a distraction.

The white-tiled floor was like a flytrap. Damp toilet paper clung to the tiles, but I locked onto the only thing that mattered. An open window, just above the sink. It was small, but not impossible. Dorian and the others would never let me walk out the front door.

I caught my reflection in the cracked mirror. My hair was a little damp with sweat, mascara slighty smudged beneath my eyes. I looked like I’d been crying. I had. I had never felt so lost, so confused. If I just had a note, a reason for being here, maybe I could stay. But I had nothing.

I didn’t know the area and I didn’t have a phone, but I could follow the road. It would take me to a village where surely, surely someone would let me use their phone.

I didn’t have much time. My heart hammered as I hauled myself into the sink, awkward, desperate, feeling bruises blooming at my shins. Almost there. Just a little more.

“Are you serious?” Ruby yelped. “Arabella!”

Too late. I hit the ground, pain jolting up my knees, but I was already running.

I tore through the gravel lot, lungs burning as I raced toward the road.

For a moment, all I could hear was the sound of my heartbeat and the slap of rain against the gravel.

My hands shook. I didn’t even know where the road would take me but the thought of staying, of sitting across from Dorian again, felt worse than being lost with nowhere to go.

“Stop!” She called after me through the window. “This is only going to make things worse for you!”

Her words echoed after me, but I didn’t stop.

The night air was cool in my lungs, the gravel crunching underfoot, and for a moment I believed I could outrun all of this.

I turned, starting down the road flanked by tall hedges, my cardigan nearly soaked through as I tore into the night—and directly into someone’s chest.

“Is there a problem?” My lungs suddenly felt too small. Dorian.

The rain had soaked through his shirt, the fabric molding to every sculpted plane of muscle.

A raindrop traced a slow path down his temple, catching on the cut of his cheekbone before slipping over his lips.

He watched like he was waiting for me to realize something on my own.

“You didn’t really think I’d let you leave, did you? ”

“Let me?” I froze, the road spinning, the adrenaline crashing as fast as it had come. Of course he’d followed me. The idea that I could escape had been nothing but a fantasy. This was obviously a cult, and cult leaders didn’t let their people leave .

His fingers skimmed my wrist for just a moment before they closed around it, but the warning pulsed through his grip if I dared move. His violet eyes dragged over me, soaking in my wet clothes, my ragged breath, and the failed escape written in every trembling muscle.

“Leave us, Ruby.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, his eyes still trained on me. I was paralyzed, too afraid to move or swallow. Ruby hesitated, a flicker of defiance in her stance, but it lasted only a heartbeat before she melted into the darkness.

“I told you, Davenant.” His voice was a whisper, a promise, a verdict already passed. “You owe me an offering.”

I didn’t speak, or move. I couldn’t. The world shrank to his words, the slow tightening of his grip.

For the first time, I realized this wasn’t about the game or even the rules of Evermore.

This was about power, control, and mine was slipping through my fingers like sand.

I had nowhere to go, and Dorian knew it.

“You can run all you want.” His lips quirked, a dark shadow crossing his face. “But you should know. I always catch what’s mine.”