Page 31

I head down the other hall, grab both their phones from the car and toss them in the guest bedroom drawer. I pull the landline cord out of the wall too. No contact with the outside world for the night.

Later, after I’ve cleaned the pan and washed the blood off my knuckles, I turn on the TV and drop into the leather armchair.

My intention is to find some hockey highlights I can watch as I eat my dinner, but the universe has other plans because as I scroll through the channels, I land on something explicit. Loud moans and fake gasps fill the room. Cheap hotel sheets. A girl bent over the edge of a bed. I let it play.

I tug my sweatpants down just enough and start stroking myself slowly. I’m not even watching the screen. It’s the image of her. That damn tattoo. The way she looked when she shoved her jeans down. Like she wanted me to see it. Like she wanted a reaction.

She got one.

The room smells like wood and spice and sweat. I sink deeper into the chair, wrist moving slower now, tension winding in my gut.

Then I hear her.

Bare feet on wood. Quiet, hesitant steps. She’s standing at the edge of the hall, frozen in the shadows.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asks.

I don’t stop dropping my wrist lower to massage my balls.

“I heard noises, but now I regret coming to check,” she adds, eyes darting between me and the screen.

“Were you worried about me, Sienna ?”

“No. And can you turn this off. I don’t want to see this.”

“Then close your eyes.”

She doesn’t. She stays right there. Watching. Breathing hard. One hand wrapped around her arm like she’s trying to keep herself anchored.

I tilt my head. “You like what you see?”

Her lips part, but no words come.

“You’re curious, little bunny,” I coax.

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

There it is again.

I grin. Slow. Cruel. “You keep saying that.”

She doesn’t respond. Just keeps staring.

I slow down, make her watch each movement. The rhythm. The sound. The dark, ugly heat of it.

And she stays rooted to the floor like she can’t move even if she wanted to.

The light from the TV paints her face in flashes of red and gold, her mouth parted, eyes wide and locked on the obscene display in front of her. Not the screen. Me.

I slow my hand, savoring the tension.

Her breath stutters.

Then she turns and vanishes down the hall.

I laugh. Quiet. Amused. She could’ve run when she had the chance. But she stayed. She watched . That means more than anything she’ll ever admit.

A groan echoes from the other room.

I lean my head back, still lazily stroking myself.

Here we go.

Eli staggers in, shirt twisted, a red mark blooming across his jaw from where I clocked him earlier. He blinks at the TV, then at me, then rubs a hand across his face like he’s not sure if he’s still dreaming.

“What the hell…”

I let go, wipe my hand on a towel, and zip up. Calm. Unbothered.

“Took you long enough,” I say.

He looks around, groggy. “Where are we?”

“Lake house. You were drunk. I carried your sorry ass here. Sienna just ran off. You couldn’t have missed her.”

He sees the steak on the counter, half cold but still untouched. Stomach growling, he grabs a knife and digs in. “Sienna’s here?”

I nod toward the hallway. “Yes.”

He freezes, fork halfway to his mouth. “Watching you jerk off?”

“Loud volume.”

“Jesus.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite.” I grab a beer from the fridge, pop it open, and lean against the counter. “You branded her. Put your name on her skin like she’s yours.”

He smirks—genuine this time, lazy and cocky. “You saw it.”

“Oh yeah.”

He takes another bite. “She’s mine.”

“No.” I shake my head slowly. “That’s the problem. You think she’s yours. I think she’s ours.”

His eyes narrow. “Shut the fuck up, Caleb.”

“I’m tired of this game we’re playing.”

He shrugs. “You started it. Trying to take what’s mine.”

I laugh at his words and then shake my head. “Doesn’t matter.”

The moment stretches long and tense. Then I take another swig and say, “Let’s make it simple.”

Eli raises a brow.

“We settle it. Tonight. Like true brotherhood?”

He grins. “No way.”

“Scared?”

“Of you?” He barks a laugh.

“Then say yes.”

He leans against the table. “Set the terms.”

“Any game. You pick. Winner takes her virginity.”

There it is. Spoken into the air like poison. The silence that follows is thick.

Then…

“What the fuck?” Sienna’s voice cracks through the room.

She stands at the edge of the hallway again, arms around herself, eyes wide with disbelief.

“You two can’t be serious,” she hisses.

I look her dead in the eye. “You walked into the lion’s den, baby. Did you think they wouldn’t bite?”

Eli watches her, licking steak juice from his thumb. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m very serious.” I flick the cap of my beer into the sink. “We’ve been circling her for weeks. And she’s been circling us. You saw it.”

She stares at us both like we’re idiots. “You think this is funny? Some prize to win?”

“No,” I say. “I think it’s inevitable. So, we decide who.”

“You’re insane,” she snaps. “I’m not a game.”

Eli shrugs. “You let me put it on you.”

“That wasn’t—” she cuts herself off, jaw tight. “You drugged me.”

“You didn’t say no.”

“I was drunk.”

I add, “And you came back to us anyway.”

I reach past Eli and grab the deck of cards from the cabinet above the sink. It’s old, the corners frayed, but still playable. I slap it down on the table between us.

Eli raises a brow. “War?”

I nod. “One round. High card wins.”

“Fuck this,” Sienna says, but I think she’s just putting up a fight because being into it would deter us. I bet if I stuck my hands in her panties, her cunt would be soaking. She tries to back away, but I catch her arm. Not hard. Just enough to hold her in place.

“You run, I win by default.” I let her go, but my eyes stay on hers. “You want to prove you’re not ours? Walk away. Leave. Take your chances in the woods. Or stay. Watch. Own it.”

She doesn’t move.

Eli pulls a chair out and sits. “Fine. Deal.”

I shuffle the cards slowly, the tension thickening. I draw two, set one in front of him and one in front of me.

We flip.

His: Seven of clubs.

Mine: Queen of hearts.

I lean back, lips curving. “Looks like I win.”

Sienna lets out a broken breath, like she’s been punched. She takes a step back. Then another.

“You’re not serious.”

I nod. “I am.”

Eli rubs a hand over his mouth, eyes flicking between us. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

I grin. “You’re just mad that you lost.”

He shakes his head. “She’s not yours.”

“She is now,” I chuckle.

Sienna’s breathing hard, eyes glassy. She backs into the wall like it might save her.

“You said it yourself,” I remind her, voice low. “You’re always around us. You wanted the attention. Now you have it.”

Eli watches her too. Not moving. Not speaking. But not stopping me either.

The lake house is quiet again.

Only the sound of cards hitting the table.

Only the sound of her shallow breaths.

And the game has just begun.