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Chapter Thirty-Four

" W ake up, Little Devil," Callan says, shaking me gently.

My eyes flutter open to find both him and Sebastian hovering over me like twin shadows.

"It’s two a.m.," Callan says. "Which means it's go time. This is when Evan snuck out last night and if he does it again, we need to be there."

My brain scrambles to catch up. "Huh?"

Sebastian taps his wrist like he’s wearing a watch. "We’re going to Evan’s room. Come on, baby. I’ll help you to the car."

Still foggy, I sit up and rub my eyes. The next thing I know, I’m in the passenger seat with Callan shoving a coffee into my hands.

"Drink up," he says. "This might take all night."

I sip the lukewarm caffeine, and slowly the fog lifts.

We're going to bust Evan. Holy shit. This is happening.

Between my run-in with Aidric in the kitchen, getting double teamed by Sebastian and Callan, and crashing early, I didn't even have time to mentally prepare.

I chug half the cup and set it in the center console before finally checking my phone for the first time since I crashed at eight.

My heart skips when I see I have a message from Uncle Dave.

With a shaky finger, I open it.

Uncle Dave: No match on the prints but we found a small trace of blood and ran it through the system. Came back positive for an Evan Sanders. Does this name mean anything to you?

A sharp gasp escapes me and I toss my phone out in front of me without thinking.

"What is it?" Sebastian asks from the seat behind me.

"Holy shit," I cover my mouth, still in shock.

Once I've pulled myself together, I bend down, pick my phone off the floorboard, and hold it up to show him.

"We were right," I breathe, the words catching in my throat. "I didn’t tell you guys because I didn’t want to get your hopes up, but I went rogue and had the puck we found analyzed for prints. "

Aidric turns, eyes narrowing. "You what?"

"There were no prints," I say, voice trembling. "But they found blood . My uncle ran it and it came back a match for Evan fucking Sanders."

Aidric slams his palm against the steering wheel so hard the entire car jolts. "Son of a bitch."

"Then that’s it," Sebastian says. "We’ve fucking got him."

Callan exhales like he’s been holding his breath for days. "Time to end this shit."

Just like that, the night shifts. For the first time in weeks, instead of spiraling, we’re celebrating.

"We were fucking right," I say again, still breathless from the rush of it. "All this time, we were chasing shadows, and now we’ve got proof it was Evan."

Sebastian leans forward between the seats and grabs my hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "You did good, Little Lamb. You just helped break this wide open."

Aidric lets out a wild laugh. "I can’t fucking believe it. Evan Sanders of all people. That sneaky, little bastard."

"And the blood on the puck," Callan adds. "He left it behind like some calling card that just got his ass busted."

"Or maybe it was a mistake," Sebastian says. "Either way, he screwed himself."

"Finally," Aidric grits, slamming the steering wheel again. "We’ve got the bastard by the throat."

We all sit in our thoughts for a few minutes, letting the magnitude of what this means settle over us. This wasn’t just mind games and sabotage; this was a murder. Julian didn’t collapse at the area from natural causes, he was taken out. And now we know who the hell did it.

"So what do we do now?" I ask, breaking the silence.

Callan leans forward between the front seats. "I say we stick with the plan, but we boost backup. If Evan’s capable of killing, we’re not taking any chances. There's no way you're going into that room alone."

Aidric gives a tight nod. "We make a few tweaks. I’ll go in the room with her and hide in the closet, or behind a curtain. Doesn't matter to me. When Evan walks in, I take him down."

I watch in the rearview mirror as Callan leans into the back seat. "Throw a sack over his head if we have to then let's haul his ass back to The Chamber."

Aidric nods. "That’s where this ends."

I suck in a long breath, trying to control the fire in my chest. "You’re really going to kidnap him?"

"We’re sure as hell not calling the cops," Aidric replies flatly. "If we want them involved then we better lawyer up."

"We could do it that way," Callan tries.

"No," Aidric snaps. "We're handling this the Ice Lords’ way. The same way Julian was supposed to be handled so we didn’t get bit in the ass."

I roll my eyes, biting back the urge to tell Aidric where he can shove his holier-than-thou tone. "Then I guess we better make sure we don't screw this up, huh?"

He looks over, glowering at me, but I just put on the biggest, fakest smile I can muster.

A few minutes later, we pull into the rehabilitation center parking lot and Aidric kills the engine, but no one moves right away. Whatever rush we felt earlier has been replaced by the reminder that the dangerous part starts now.

When Aidric finally pops the door, the three of us step out. I move around to the back seat where Callan’s sitting, his hands resting on his knees.

I grab his face and kiss him hard. "Be safe out here."

I start to pull away, but he grabs my hand and yanks me back in, pressing his forehead to mine before stealing another kiss. "You be safe in there ."

"Always," I whisper, then shut the door before I can change my mind.

I keep my head down, eyes scanning the rows of cars. Two of them match the one we came in, both loaded with Ice Lords ready to jump if anything goes sideways.

Aidric made the call to leave Klein out of this one. He said Evan's downfall was ours to claim, not his. For once, I agreed with him. We've made it this far on our own, might as well see it through.

We slip around the side of the building, ducking beneath a busted security camera Sebastian swears hasn’t worked in weeks. How he knows that is beyond me, but I trust him.

The front door isn’t even locked, which shows just how little this place cares about the safety of their residence. No wonder Evan was able to get in and out so easily.

Aidric eases it open, and we slide inside without a sound.

The hallways glow with the kind of fluorescent light that makes it feel like we’re in a haunted asylum instead of a treatment facility.

At the front desk, the night nurse is half-asleep, slouched in her chair, her head bobbing behind a computer screen. She doesn’t even look up as we pass.

Every step makes my pulse thud harder in my chest. We don't speak, or stop, until we're at the fourth door on the right—Evan’s room.

Aidric’s hand hovers over the handle. "Ready?" he whispers.

I want to say no. I want to turn around, climb back into the car, and go back to bed with one of my guys.

Instead, I nod once.

"I’ll be right around the corner," Sebastian says, eyes locked on mine.

With that, Aidric pushes the door open slowly. I step inside, gripping the handle until it slips from my fingers, the door clicking shut behind us.

My shoes barely make a sound but my heartbeat is deafening. Aidric is behind me, trailing me like a shadow.

I inch closer to the bed, hoping like hell it's just rolled towels under the blanket, but when I lift the corner a sharp gasp rips out of me.

A choked sob follows. My legs threaten to give out and I fall backward into Aidric’s chest. He catches me fast, arms locking around me like a shield.

Evan lies there, pale with an open, blank stare. His body is twisted like he moved at the last second, but it wasn’t fast enough.

Then I see his throat—sliced clean open.

My body goes numb and Aidric holds me tighter as the horror sinks in.

Blood pours in a thick, syrupy trail down the side of the mattress, dripping onto the floor, the puddle still growing.

I stare—I can’t breathe, can’t scream. This just happened. How did this just happen?

"It’s okay," Aidric whispers. "I’ve got you…I've got you."

But it's not okay. Evan is dead!

Bile burns the back of my throat, the room spinning as it closes in. Aidric grips me tighter, saying something I can’t hear over the sound of my own ragged breathing.

"Come on," he says urgently. "We have to get out of here."

He pulls me out of the room and into the hall where the lights seem brighter now.

Sebastian is there in an instant. I hear him say something, but the words are scrambled and distant.

As soon as we’re outside, I break away from Aidric and collapse into Sebastian’s arms. His hands find my back, holding me like he’s anchoring me to the floor.

"I…I can’t…" I try to speak, but nothing comes out.

"I know," Sebastian says gently, stroking my hair. "I know."

Evan is dead. Drake and the others are still missing, and the chances of them being found alive is not likely at this point. Everything is falling apart.

As we approach the car, I glance back once, and I swear I can still hear the sound of blood hitting the floor.

Drip. drip. drip.

We pile into the car quickly. Sebastian slides in beside me, and Callan’s already there, his arm reaching for me the second the door shuts. I collapse between them, still shaking and still seeing Evan’s lifeless eyes every time I blink.

Callan pulls me into his chest and Sebastian takes my hand. Neither of them speaks, but they don’t have to because their touch says enough. Even if I am spiraling, they're doing what they can to keep me here in the present and not stuck back in that room.

Aidric gets behind the wheel and slams the door shut without a word. The only sound is the dull hum of the engine and tires crunching over gravel as we pull out of the lot.

I rest my forehead against Callan’s shoulder and try to breathe when my phone buzzes from my coat pocket; at the same time, everyone else's goes off, too.

Aidric curses under his breath and grabs his phone from the console. Sebastian checks his next to me with his jaw clenched while Callan just holds me closer, like he already knows whatever’s waiting is bad.

My fingers tremble as I swipe open the text message.

Unknown Number: Every game has its casualties. Evan was one of them.

My grip tightens until my knuckles scream, the shake in my hands spreading through the rest of my body.

Aidric’s voice slices through the silence. "What the fuck is this?"

No one answers because we already know. Evan wasn't the predator; he was the pawn.

But if he wasn’t the one pulling the strings, then who the hell is?