Page 7

CHAPTER 6

The hockey house is practically a legend in North Ridge. Some say Edison Einhorn’s ghost still lingers inside. Last year, a freshman from Rosewood U took a dare to go into the basement on Devil’s Night and prove it with a selfie or a picture of one of the demons they say lives down there. Five hours passed before he finally emerged, pale and silent. The picture never surfaced and the next day, he dropped out of school. No one’s seen him since.

I, however, don’t believe in that shit. The only demons people need to worry about are the ones in their own heads. Or, the three of them I’m sitting in a car with, in my case.

“What now?” I ask the enigma sitting next to me.

His eyes stay fixed on his phone, thumb flicking the screen in mindless swipes like I’m nothing more than empty space. This new friendship thing might prove to be harder than I thought.

Frustrated that no one will tell me what the hell is going on, I take matters into my own hands and yank the door handle only to hit resistance. Stuck. Damn child locks.

Then, I see my back seat neighbor reach up and tug an earbud from his ear. Of course. I almost laugh, but there’s nothing funny about this situation. No wonder he was ignoring me. He didn’t hear a damn word I said.

I glance toward the front just in time to see Aidric tip his chin at Callan. Without hesitation, Callan nods and pushes open his door. The thunderous sound of his black boots hit the pavement before he slams the door shut.

“Will one of you please tell me what I’m doing here?” I ask anyone who will listen. “I wasn’t lying when I said I had things…”

My words trail off as my door finally swings open. A cool gust of air rushes in, whipping my hair into my face. I barely have time to brush it away before a hand clamps around my arm and yanks me out of the car. “Dude, would you chill with the grabbing? Keep it up and I’ll have a permanent imprint from your fingers.”

“Maybe if you’d just listen and go where I say, I wouldn’t have to manhandle you.”

I wrench my arm free, and to my surprise, he doesn’t stop me. But before I can take a full step back, his hand finds the small of my back—firm, possessive, and guiding.

The car peels out, tires spitting gravel while the scent of burnt rubber lingers in the air. I watch as the taillights shrink into the five-stall garage. I’d question how they can afford such luxurious accommodations, but I’m sure it’s all funded by sponsors and alumni boosters.

I tug my sleeves down, the fabric swallowing my fingers as I fold my arms against my chest. “Thanks for letting me grab a jacket before you kidnapped me.”

“Kidnapped?” Callan chuckles, low and amused. “I’d hardly call it that.”

His hand drops, fingers gliding over the keypad beside the door. After a sharp beep, the door comes unlocked. He shoves it open like he owns the world before he leans into the frame.

“Taking someone against their will is kidnapping, Callan.”

Palm splayed against the door, he holds it open while his heavy gaze settles on me. “Fair enough. So I kidnapped you. You gonna run now?” A knowing smirk twitches his lips. I bet he’d love for me to run just so he can chase me down.

I grit my teeth, shaking my head in deliberate, measured beats. I don’t say a word as I step past him and into the massive house. For a second, I freeze, my mouth dropping open as I take in my surroundings.

The place is gorgeous . All stark contrasts, it’s a gothic dream in black and white. Like Beetlejuice’s suit—chaotic, but elegant. The vaulted ceilings stretch so high they could kiss the mountaintops behind the house. And somehow, despite over a dozen guys living here, it’s surprisingly spotless. Must have a housekeeper…or magical powers.

Shaking myself out of the shocked state, I turn to face Callan who’s staring at me.

“Well,” I grumble, crossing my arms. “I’m here. What now?”

Before Callan can answer, Aidric and the other back seat rider step out from around a corner. Aidric barely glances at Callan before his glare slices straight to me. “Take her to The Chamber,” he hisses.

My stomach knots. The Chamber. I remember someone mentioning it in the locker room. It was just a passing remark, but it was enough to leave me wondering.

Callan’s fingers clamp firmly around my upper arm like I’m some prisoner being marched to my fate.

“Wait.” The word barely scrapes out. “What’s The Chamber? Is that, like…an inferno?”

No answer.

“Stop!” I thrash against Callan’s grip. When that doesn’t work, I drop all of my weight on him in refusal. My body goes limp and my knees hit the floor.

If he wants me in that chamber, he’ll have to drag me there.

Callan exhales sharply, and his grip tightens. “This is exactly what I mean, Avery. You don’t fucking listen.”

Laughter and scattered voices drift through the air, along with footsteps shuffling somewhere nearby. We aren’t alone.

My pulse spikes and I look up, wondering where the sounds are coming from. Does the rest of the hockey team have any idea what’s happening? If not, they will now.

“Help!” I scream. “Someone help me!”

A sharp gasp leaves my lips as I’m hoisted off the ground, my world flipping upside down as I’m flung over Callan’s shoulder.

“You’re wasting your breath. No one is coming to help you, Avery.”

“Please,” I beg. “Don’t do this.”

My hand shoots out, scrambling for any kind of anchor. My fingertips graze the wall, and I drag my nails down hard, peeling away strips of paint and leaving a jagged trail of scratches. It won’t stop him, but it’s evidence if I go missing. That, paired with the camera footage outside my dorm, is enough to prove these guys are responsible.

“Would you chill the fuck out?” Callan snaps, jabbing another code into yet another keypad. A click echoes through the air just before he pushes the door open. “We’re not gonna kill you. At least, not yet.”

Well, that’s comforting. Not!

Each step takes us deeper underground. The air thickens and the scent of damp cement wafts around me, causing my stomach to tighten.

Dim orange lights flicker in glass sconces along the walls, illuminating the path just enough to keep me from being swallowed by the darkness.

By the time we reach the final step, the space unfolds around me. A cavernous, dimly lit room with a larger sconce flaming at the far end. A row of chairs sits in perfect formation, all facing a raised platform. On top of it is a wood podium, like the ones you’d see in a church. But something tells me no prayers are being answered here.

This is definitely a cult.

My eyes immediately land on a pair of chains dangling from the ceiling. Attached to them are cuffs that look like they are used to lock around someone’s wrists. My breath hitches, and it feels like the room is tilting.

Fear is something I have experienced plenty, but I have always held my head high. But right now, I’m afraid if I hold it too high, someone might try to chop it off.

I like to think I’m tough. I don’t take shit from people. I fight back. But this? This is something else. This is a line I never thought I’d be standing on the edge of. And right now, it feels like I’m about to be shoved off.

“Callan,” I say in a desperate plea, my pulse slamming against my rib cage. “Please don’t do this to me.”

The moment my feet touch the ground, I feel relief. That is, until Callan steps in front of me. He watches me like a cat would a wounded mouse, his eyes dark, but there’s also something else. Something unreadable. I want to think it’s pity, but part of me believes he could never feel such an empathetic emotion after all he has done to torture me.

“Listen to me, Avery.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Just do what they say and you’ll be fine.”

His gaze flicks past me. A muscle in his jaw tics as he bites down on his bottom lip, hands burying deep in his pockets like he’s holding something back. “You really fucked yourself when you walked into that locker room.”

Hot tears spill from my eyes and my chest tightens. “Don’t let them hurt me.” My words are a breath more than a sound.

“Physically, you’ll be fine.” For the first time, his voice is stripped of its usual edge. No intimidation, no threat. It’s almost…normal.

I swallow down the hard lump forming in my throat. “What does that mean?”

He pulls in a sharp breath, his gaze looking ahead. “You’ll soon find out.” And just like that, the moment of softness vanishes. His mask snaps back into place and the hardness returns to his eyes. With a firm shove, he forces me down into one of the chairs in the back row. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.”

Disappearing into the shadows of the room, he quickly reappears with a shiny skeleton key dangling from his fingers. My pulse hammers as he slides it into the keyhole of a heavy metal door. Just as it creaks open, footsteps echo down the staircase.

A chill runs down my spine. Even if I can’t see him, I know it’s Aidric. There’s something about that guy that terrifies me in ways I can’t explain.

I can’t let him see my fear, though. He’ll only feel more powerful than he already does. If there’s one thing I know about men in charge, it’s that they get off on putting others beneath them. While my height can’t help me much in that department, my attitude sure as fuck can.

I spring to my feet, ready to demand answers. “What do you want from me?” My voice cracks, but I recover quickly, refusing to let him see me cower. “Why am I here?”

Silence.

Aidric just watches me. His unwanted stare slicing through the air like a sharp knife.

“Sebastian.” Callan’s voice drifts from behind the door. “Gimme a hand.”

So that’s his name.

Sebastian flicks a glance at Aidric, who gives the smallest nod. This silent talk between them is really getting old.

Still, Aidric says nothing. Just stands there, scrutinizing every breath I take like he’s waiting for me to shatter.

My eyebrows knit into a tight V. “Whatever you’re about to do, you won’t get away with it.”

Aidric’s head tilts, a slow, sinister smile creeping across his face.

I swallow hard but stand my ground. “If something happens to me, my blood will be on your hands. You’ll never get away with it, asshole.”

This gets his attention. His back straightens, shoulders taut like a predator getting a whiff of a scent. He steps into me, a low growl rumbling out of him. His fingers spread as he reaches out for my throat. I jump back, but I’m not quick enough as he latches onto my neck.

His grip tightens the second his warm skin presses to mine. Not enough to crush my windpipe, but enough to cut off my airways. My pulse hammers beneath his palm as I claw at his hand, nails digging into his skin, desperate for him to let me go so I can take a breath.

“Whoa, whoa,” Sebastian cuts in, his words laced with urgency. He plants a firm hand on Aidric’s shoulder, guiding him back until he releases me.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” I cough out, rubbing the spot on my throat where he gripped me. “You’re insane!”

Sebastian throws me a quick, almost apologetic glance before turning to Aidric. “Relax,” he mutters. “Stick to the plan.”

Plan? A cold wave of unease crashes over me knowing they’ve been plotting against me, especially in a place as sinister as this.

Callan reemerges, locking the door behind him. In his other hand, he clutches a small, rectangular box.

My box. Wait a damn minute.

My mom gave me that music box on my eleventh birthday. When it’s opened, a ballerina twirls around to the melody of “You Are My Sunshine”—a song she sang to me as a baby.

My stomach twists. “Why the hell does he have that? Why did he take it?”

Their response is only blank stares and smug indifference. All this silence has my patience hanging by a thread. I might as well be talking to a damn wall.

“Did one of you break into my room?” I shove Sebastian hard, fingers digging into his chest. “Answer me, dammit! Were you in my room?” His lips curl into a slow, wicked smirk. “You assholes!”

“That box holds the key to your freedom,” Sebastian finally says, his first words to me.

I let out a bitter laugh. “That box holds a dancing ballerina and a folded-up picture of my mom and me. My freedom is hardly in there.”

Callan steps in, shoving the box against my chest. I barely catch it before it slips from my hands. As my fingers move to unclasp the lock, his sharp exhale stops me cold.

"I wouldn’t open that if I were you," he warns.

My gaze snaps to him, searching for answers I’m not sure I want. My voice is quieter now,a bite of hesitation to my tone. "Why?"

“Listen,” Sebastian says sternly. “Had you shown up to our practice today, we wouldn’t be standing here right now. But since you broke our trust, you need to earn it back. Therefore, you’re going to do exactly what I say. And if you don’t…” He flicks a glance at Aidric and Callan, something unspoken passing between them, again . “Let’s just say, it won’t turn out well for you.”

My fingers tighten around the music box as a sorrow I don’t want to acknowledge pulls at me. But I repress it, shoving it as far down as it can go because I have no business mourning someone who is still alive. Especially not right now.

Lifting my eyes back to his, I compose myself. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

Sebastian’s gaze darkens. “You’re gonna burn that box and bury the ashes.”

My breath catches, my heart slamming against my ribs. They want me to burn it ? For fuck’s sake… What am I holding right now?

“Wha…what’s in it?” My voice barely rises above a whisper.

For all I know, it holds proof of what they did to Evan. His phone wouldn’t fit, but maybe it’s something else. Something they had in their possession that could tie them to his fall.

Callan shifts, his jaw tight as if he’s waiting for my reaction.

Sebastian simply smirks. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

I tap the box with my fingers, my mind racing. What am I about to agree to?

“If I do this, you guys better leave me alone. No more showing up at my dorm. No more breaking in and stealing my things.” My stance is firm, but my shaking hands betray me.

Callan steps closer, his eyes steady on mine. “As long as we know we can trust you, we’ll leave you alone.”

His tone is softer than I expected, his features less rigid. For a second I almost believe him. But Callan has always been good at deception.

“Fine,” I snap, shoving past them. “I’ll burn it and get rid of the ashes.”

I don’t look back. I can’t. If I think too hard about what I’m about to do, I might hesitate. And that will lead to me asking questions I don’t want answers to. Curiosity really did kill the damn cat.

This will end soon . It has to.

“Not so fast,” Sebastian calls, his footsteps heavy behind me. At the bottom of the stairs, he cuts me off, slipping a folded piece of paper into my hand. “There are further instructions.”

I flip it open, my stomach tightening at the sight of a map of Rosewood. In the center, there’s a bold circle around a location pin.

I wave the paper in the air. “What the hell is this?”

Sebastian jabs a finger at the center of the circle. “Pay attention. This is important.” His voice is low and measured. “Take the two-track on the right and drive until it ends. You’ll see a wooden post with a red ribbon tied around it. Stand to the right of it, take six steps forward, and you’ll find a black river rock with the number eight on it. That’s where you’ll burn and bury the box. Bring us the rock when it’s done. You have three days.”

I exhale sharply, rolling my eyes. “Do you guys really have to be so damn dramatic?”

Spinning on my heel, I take the stairs two at a time. Once I reach the top, I grab the handle, but it’s locked.

My head drops back, frustration burning my insides. “Will someone let me out of this damn hellhole and take me back to my dorm?”

Aidric appears at the bottom of the staircase. With a tap to his phone, the door unlocks. Fancy .

Callan strides past Aidric, heading up the stairs, but I don’t wait. I haul ass out of there. My feet don’t stop until I’m out the front door. My lungs pull in the air like it’s the first breath I’ve taken in hours.

I look down at the box in my hand, curious, but not stupid. I run my fingers over the painted yellow sunflower on the top, a ghost of a smile on my face as I think back to the day it was gifted to me.

It was a simpler time in my life—a softer world. Now those moments are few and far between.

"What is it?” I ask, my fingers carefully peeling back the tape on the metallic pink wrapping paper. My heart thrums with excitement, anxious to see what’s inside. There’s something so special about getting a gift, knowing someone put thought into picking out something just for you. It’s not about the contents; it’s about the gesture and the heart behind the gift.

Mom’s grin stretches from ear to ear. “Open it and see.”

The wrapping paper falls away, revealing a wooden box with hand-painted sunflowers on top. My breath catches. It’s beautiful.

Impatient as ever, Mom reaches over, flicks open the tiny latch, and lifts the lid.

“It’s so pretty,” I whisper as I watch a ballerina twirl around to a familiar melody. I set it down gently on the table and throw my arms around her. “I love it, Mom. I’ll keep it forever.”

She pulls me close, fingers threading through my hair. Her voice is warm and so full of love. “You truly are my sunshine, Avery May.”

The black SUV rolls to a stop in front of the house, yanking me out of the memory I wish I could live in for forever. Callan steps around the vehicle, and to my surprise, he opens the front passenger door for me. It’s a polite gesture for someone so self-serving.

Still, I won’t question my luck. At least it’s him driving me and not Aidric or Sebastian.

Turns out, I won’t need to play nice with Sebastian after all. Once this box is buried, I’m free.

“Get in,” Callan gripes. “I’ve got shit to do.”

“Like what? Pushing more guys off bridges?” The sarcasm slips out under my breath, but not quietly enough.

“It wasn’t a bridge. It was a mountain ledge, if you must know. And I didn’t push anyone.”

“Well, someone did.” I drop into the seat, and before I can say anything else, Callan slams the door shut.

Once he’s behind the wheel, he mutters, “Seems you’ve already made up your mind about what happened to Evan. So go ahead and think what you want. Just don’t let those accusations leave those pretty lips, or you’ll have bigger problems than that box in your hands.”

I drop my gaze to my lap, tracing the intricate details of the painted sunflower—losing myself in my thoughts. How did this become my life? How did this become his?

“Callan,” I say softly, hesitating before glancing his way. “Why did you let yourself get tangled up with those guys?”

His fingers flex around the steering wheel, his shoulders pressing into the seat. “They’re not as brutal as they seem. They’re actually really good guys.”

“Good guys?” I laugh, though the sound is devoid of any humor. “Sebastian and Aidric are anything but good, and you’re right in line with them.”

Callan’s jaw tightens, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. “There’s a lot you don’t know,” he says, tone low. “A lot you never will.”

I shrug. “Fair enough. Not like I want the details anyway. Just one question…” A tightness coils in my chest. “Are you happy, Callan?”

His knuckles pale against the steering wheel. “Happier than ever.”

As his heavy words settle between us, something about them doesn’t sit right with me. I’ve seen Callan happy, truly happy before, and this isn’t it. I study his profile, the sharp cut of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. Callan comes from a good home. His dad might be tough on him, but he’s not a bad man. And from what I heard, his mom was very involved in her boys’ lives and she was so attentive to their needs.

I don’t wish anything bad on Callan. Even though he’s made my life hell, I know there’s a heart buried beneath all that anger and indifference. I truly hope he finds peace, purpose, and maybe even happiness. But judging by the look on his face, he doesn’t believe what he says.

“I hope that’s true,” I whisper softly.

His gaze flicks to mine. “No, you don’t. You hate me, Avery. Almost as much as I hate you.”

“True,” I admit. “But I’m not cruel. I wouldn’t wish a miserable life on anyone. Except maybe Aidric.”

He lets out a small laugh. “Like I said, he’s not as bad as you think. No one’s ever had my back the way those guys do.”

I scoff. “What about Brogan and your other sisters—Elodie and Lake? Or your brothers—Rome, Wilder, and Sayer? They’ve always been in your corner.”

“The hell they have.” His jaw tightens, but not before I catch the flicker of pain in his eyes. “The girls live in their own worlds. Rome and Wilder are the golden twins—perfect and untouchable. Sayer’s all right, but he spends his life trailing in their shadow. And me?” He huffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m the fuckup. The one who was never going anywhere. That is, until I landed a spot on the Lords’ hockey team.”

The tires crunch over gravel as the car slows to a stop. I glance out the window and realize we’re at Faraway Archery Range.

My first thought is, this isn’t over. He brought me here—to the only place I can truly be myself—and he plans to degrade and humiliate me in front of my fellow archers.

My fingers tighten around the box. “Why are we here?”

Callan leans against the steering wheel, smirking. “Told you I’d give you a ride if you came with me earlier. I always keep my word.”

A short laugh escapes me. “Highly debatable. But thanks.”

“At least you didn’t have to hitch a ride from some unhinged serial killer.”

My lips twitch with a smile. “Also debatable.”

He nods toward the range. “You have everything you need to try and shoot your target?”

“Try and shoot my target?” I scoff, swinging the door open. “Please. I don’t try. I hit every time. And yeah, I keep everything in my locker.” I step out, feeling the cool breeze against my cheeks, but I pause before closing the door. Something heavy settles in my chest. Maybe it’s pointless, maybe he won’t hear me, but I say it anyway. “Your family loves you, Callan. And whether you admit it or not, you love them too.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Avery.”

“Maybe not,” I say, glancing at the clubhouse before my eyes meet his. “But I know when someone’s lying to me, and to themselves.”

His jaw tightens, but I don’t wait for a response. I let him chew on that and without another word, I shut the door and walk away.