Page 9

9

When they’re ready to go, their masks are on and they’re back to being Harrow and Ravage. Not that I’m complaining, since I seem to have a bit of a thing for them when they’re like this. Though, if I don’t swear on my cats I’ll stay put, Kieran threatens to handcuff me to the desk in the corner of the most intact motel room we could find.

I also kindly remind them I have no desire to watch them actually kill someone, which seems to be enough. They leave with their masks, their personas, and their knives. Harrow takes a gun as well, but Val doesn’t bother.

I’m left with the duffel bag, the backpack, and my phone for company. The room is decrepit enough that I’m certainly not about to flop down onto the stained, bare mattress for a nap. I barely feel comfortable perching on the old, raggedy desk chair that wobbles if I don’t stay perfectly balanced.

A few minutes later, I hear the sound of a car approaching. The engine cuts somewhere nearby, and I can’t help the way my heart rate picks up, as if I’m the one in danger. As if I have to do anything other than sit here.

They’d told me it wouldn’t take long. To just not move or open the door, even though there was no way the guy would ever get this far.

Val even told me he’d be dead in the first five minutes while stroking the hilt of his blade. And I believe him. After all, I’ve seen what they do to people in their ‘haunted houses.’ I know he won’t have any issue with taking this man’s life.

But it’s hard. Especially when the minutes tick by and I don’t hear anything else after the distant slam of the front door. No footsteps. No screams. Not even the sound of a loud conversation.

Surely I’ll hear something , right? That’s both my expectation and my fear. The closer I am to this, the harder it is for me to handle. The more trepidation I feel about keeping my word and living up to my bravado about being able to accept every part of them.

Especially this one.

Taking a few deep breaths helps me calm down, and I remind myself that while I have to accept it, I don’t have to be a part of what they do. All I have to do is sit here and wait, and tell them I’m fine with it when they get back. No matter how covered in blood they are, or how they come back.

As long as they come back.

They’re the ones with the weapons, after all. Plus, they showed me the chain Val would be using to lock the front and back doors, just in case he got away from them. Though they’d both assured me that was very unlikely.

No one ever gets away from them, after all.

I’m a pretty great testament to that.

Finally, I pull out my phone, playing a game of Sudoku to distract myself. It barely works, and I’m so not into it, so I lose pretty quickly by going over my limit for mistakes.

Do you want to try again ?

The little option screen pops up, glaringly bright in the dim room with the musty, moldy curtains drawn. It’s so quiet that I’m starting to worry, even though I know the motel is a bit on the larger side, and more than one floor. Being on the second floor, I shouldn’t expect to hear anything. Not really.

That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

Hitting no, I get to my feet and pace to the window, dipping down to see if I can spot anything between the curtains. But all I see is the empty parking lot that’s entirely bereft of cars and activity.

I promised not to leave.

That was the deal, and I remind myself of that as I pace to the door, then back to the window once again.

I promised to stay right here .

So I pace back again.

And again.

But on the fourth circuit of the room, my hand inches out to find the door handle. I’m not locked in, not that the locks on these doors even work so well anymore, and I can’t help the way my fingers curl around the cold metal handle.

I won’t go far. I just want to hear something . Something that can assuage my bubbling, stinging curiosity.

With my phone shoved in the pocket of my leggings and my hoodie on the desk, I step out into the hallway and let the door close softly behind me.

It’s obvious there hasn’t been electricity in this place for a long time, so the hallway is dark as hell. Especially without Val’s flashlight. My steps make almost no noise on the torn up carpet as I prowl down the hallway, head cocked as I listen for any kind of sound at all.

But all I can hear is the sound of my breathing.

God, I know for a fact if Val and Kieran find me out of the room, they’re going to be pissed. That should be enough to send me scurrying back to the room. But instead, I make it to the end of the hallway, back to where the staircase is that we came up about an hour ago.

But this is where my confidence and my curiosity falter. I stop at the top of the stairs, toes curled in my sneakers as I rub my arms under my t-shirt. It’s chillier in here than I’d expected it to be, and I bite my lip while staring down the abandoned stairwell as if something is just going to magically appear.

Nothing does, of course. No boyfriends, no victim, and no ghosts. God, I’d be pretty upset if I were to find out this place is haunted. While I’ve secretly always thought ghosts might exist, finding that out here today would not be my idea of a good time.

I’m too nervous to go downstairs. That’s too close to everything for me, even though I still can’t hear anything, no matter how quietly I breathe or how hard I listen. They didn’t bring their phones with them, so it’s not like I can just shoot them a text to check on them or call for a little chat.

“You so aren’t going down there.” I sigh, knowing I don’t have the guts to skip down the stairs looking for my murderers and their victim. By now, I assume he’s definitely a corpse, and they’re probably just cleaning up. Maybe it got a bit messier than they expected, and they’re having to call in an extra cleanup crew instead of just chucking him in the trunk of Kieran’s car.

I really have no idea how the process of murder and body disposal works, so I take a step back and remind myself this is not their first rodeo. I just need to go back to the room and wait. Maybe attempt to take a nap, or at the very least listen to some music, lose more Sudoku puzzles, and panic less.

Forcing myself to move, I turn away from the stairwell and head back down the hallway, though my steps are slow and deliberate as I still try to listen for any noise. It’s not until I’m halfway down the hallway that I do hear something, and my heart thumps in my chest as I spin around to face the stairwell, mouth open to greet whichever of my murderers is finally back, while probably delivering some unhelpful quip about them taking their time.

In fact, I walk back toward the stairs as the footsteps get louder, the tightness in my chest fading with every step. Thank God I don’t have to worry anymore. I can finally stop fretting, panicking, and?—

Unfortunately, the person who staggers out of the stairwell is neither Ravage nor Harrow. The man stumbles out onto the carpet, head turning rapidly until his eyes find mine.

I don’t know him.

But he certainly looks like he’s been having a hard time.

“You…you’re…” He’s panting, his shoulders heaving, and there’s a cut on his face that’s bleeding sluggishly. “I need your help.”

Fuck .

My mouth is still open, but I have no idea what to say. I step back once, then again, the uncertainty clear on my face as my hands clench and unclench at my sides. I don’t know what to do. Hell, I’m definitely not prepared for this situation, and all I can do is stare at him with surprise and trepidation.

If he’s here, where are they ?

They can’t be dead…right?

“What…happened?” I finally murmur, feeling myself about to shake into pieces. The fear mixes with confusion, leaving me feeling like a deer in headlights.

“These two men in masks they…fuck, they were going to kill me. And then I found out the doors are fucking chained shut, so I can’t get out.” He snarls out a laugh, running his hand through his messy blond hair. He looks to be in his thirties, if I had to guess, with muddy brown eyes and a pale complexion that isn’t helped at all by the lack of light in the hall.

“Oh.” That’s all I can say, because I’m too afraid to ask about them.

“I just need to find a way out. I need…” he trails off, looking at me with a sudden clarity. “Wait. You can’t have just wandered in here. Not with the doors locked. No, you’ve been here, haven’t you?”

Fuck. I really would prefer it if he was as confused as I am, instead of apparently puzzling this out faster than he should.

“You’re with them, aren’t you?”

Double fuck .

I don’t know what to say or how to respond. I don’t know how to deny it when there’s nothing plausible about what I would say.

So I run.

I make it about six steps down the hallway before he grabs my arm, surprising a shriek out of me. The man’s grip is like iron, and he drags me to the nearest door, kicks it open, and quite literally throws me inside the room.

Unluckily for me, the floor is covered with the remains of the desk and whatever else was in here. My hands scrape along splintered wood and nails, and I can feel hot blood beading on my palms as I scramble to my feet in the room.

He slams the remains of the door, his chest heaving and eyes wide. “I don’t want to hurt you. I swear, I just want to get out of here.” The man holds up his hands, as if to placate me, but there’s no way I’m going to fall for that. I stagger back from him until my shoulders hit the wall by the window.

“I can’t help you,” I breathe. “Literally, I can’t . I don’t have the key or anything. And I don’t have a weapon.” Maybe that shouldn’t have come out of my mouth, but I’m trying to make myself seem like I’m not part of the problem.

God, I really wish I had a fucking weapon right about now. I could’ve just grabbed the knife Val left in his backpack. The one he dubbed as backup, since he tends to misplace the one he actually brought with him downstairs.

But all I have is my phone.

My hand itches to grab it, but I realize that’s something I should not draw attention to. Even here, I probably have a bar of service, and that’s more than enough for this man to call the cops.

Unfortunately, he notices the shape of it in my pocket. I see it in his eyes as he steps closer, along with the grim set of desperation in his features. “Give me your phone,” the man insists calmly, reaching out a hand to me.

“Give me your phone, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll tell the police they caught you here, too. That they were going to kill both of us.” He sounds so reasonable, so fucking friendly, that I almost believe him.

“No,” I finally whisper. “I can’t. I really, really can’t.”

“And you think I’ll just, what, let you go? Accept that answer and go on my way?” The man barks out a laugh as he steps closer. “Don’t make me hurt you. Please.”

Terror goes through me, but I shake my head again. I can’t . My hands are so cold, so clammy from the blood oozing from the scrapes, but I press them to my leggings, one of them over my phone protectively.

“I’m not making you do anything,” I say finally, my voice shaking. “It’s not my fault you’re here. You did this to yourself.”

That’s maybe the absolute wrong thing to say. The man’s gaze hardens with frustration and determination, and a second later, he lunges for me. I try to slip around him, attempting to bolt toward the door that won’t lock so I can run down the stairs and look for Kieran and Val. If I can just find them, or if I can get back to the room with their things?—

He catches me by the arm, pulling a cry from my throat, and uses the momentum to slam me into the wall as hard as he can. My face cracks against the peeling plaster, but I still work to shake him off, managing to stumble back a few steps and try again for the door.

I don’t expect it when he punches me. His fist hits my cheek hard enough to throw my head back, and I can’t keep my balance when I’m thrown back from the impact. My knees buckle, sending me to the floor with the pieces of wood and rubble. I can feel blood on my face amidst the pain, and when I try to get up, the man is right there, shoving me back down.

“Just give me your phone!” he demands, grabbing my hair to drag me to my knees. “You think I want to do this?” He punches me again, and when I hit the floor on my back, my head spins. I swear the ceiling does too, but maybe that’s just the nausea from the pain in my face and head.

Distantly, in a strange and detached part of my brain, I wonder if he’ll kill me.

“No,” I pant, grasping around me for anything I can find. When he steps closer and pulls me back to my knees, I take a piece of splintered off wood I’ve found and jam it into his leg, right above his knee.

He yells, sounding a bit like a very pissed off bull, and drags me to my feet to slam me into the wall as hard as he can.

And then he does it again, before dropping me back to the floor and gripping the piece of wood now sticking out of his leg. With a snarl, he rips it free, but all I can do is watch as I try to focus on him and staying conscious.

“I don’t want to do this,” he snarls, panting and still holding the piece of wood. “You think I want to hurt you? Fuck , you stupid girl. Why can’t you just give me your goddamn phone?! If you’re afraid of them?—”

“I’m not afraid of them,” I interrupt, my voice barely audible and sounding a little choked off from the blood in my mouth and nose. I’d hate to see what I look like right now, but luckily for me, the mirrors in the room are long gone. “And from where I’m sitting, they aren’t the monsters here.”

“That’s only because it isn’t you they’re trying to kill.” He takes a breath to steady himself, gulping air as he clutches the wood in his hand. “You’re really making me do this, aren’t you?” he asks, a rueful laugh in his words. When he steps forward, it’s almost reluctant, and it hits me that he’s going to really hurt me.

Or worse. Especially with the already bloody and sharp piece of wood in his hand that I pretty much gave him.

I should’ve stayed in the room.

But it’s too late for regrets now.

Slowly, I struggle to my feet, having to use the wall behind me for support. If he’s going to stab me, I want to be standing for it. I don’t want to stay on my knees for this man, even though my head would really like us to just call it and tap out.

“Then maybe you should’ve made better choices,” I snarl, spitting blood in his face from the plethora of it in my mouth. He flinches, his face contorting, and I see the muscles in his body tense as he mentally prepares himself for what I suspect is going to hurt way more than anything else so far has.

My body tenses, preparing, and I know this is it. I can’t move. I can’t get away from him when he’s in a lot better shape than me. He’s?—

A shape hurtles into the room, having slammed the door open and causing it to splinter. A snarl meets my ears, and in what seems like an instant, the man is on the ground, the wood spinning away to clatter against the wall.

It takes my brain a few seconds to realize that it’s Ravage who’s on the man, knife flashing in his hand as he rips into him. Blood spatters around the room, and the man’s screams meet my ears just as I slide down the wall to sit on the floor.

I can’t look away.

There’s no horror in me. No regret or sorrow for the man who’d been about to kill me. The only thing I feel is relief, especially when Harrow walks in with a gun in his hand and shoves Ravage off of the man who’s somehow still breathing.

“We could’ve made this easy,” Harrow tells him from behind the ram mask. “You could’ve walked away from this a long time ago.” When Ravage tries to dive for him again, Kieran grabs him and shoves him toward me. The man lifts a hand, wheezing something under his breath, and the gun goes off.

My ears ring loud enough to obscure the man’s pained howls, and it takes a moment for me to register Harrow hadn’t fired a shot that would kill him. Instead, the man clutches his stomach where blood wells from the new gunshot wound, though he’s definitely missing a couple fingers on that hand.

“I really hope that hurts,” I whisper, unable to tear my gaze away. Harrow glances at me from behind his mask, and fires the gun again. This time the man screams and curls around the new bullet wound in his shoulder, sobs wracking through his body.

“Let me finish him,” Ravage snarls, shaking from his spot just in front of me. He glances down at me, and I swear I can feel the hatred, the menace, and the crazed fury behind the skull-like mask he wears. “ Please . Let me hurt him.”

Harrow hesitates before stepping back with a nod. “Fine,” he agrees, his voice frigid. “Do what you want.”

Ravage takes the invitation and runs with it. He launches himself forward, stabbing his blade into the man’s leg to drag him across the floor. He screams, but the sound lasts only a few seconds before Ravage buries the blade just under his sternum and rips it downward, opening him up so his insides spill out like they need somewhere to go.

His screams go on for longer than I expect as Ravage sits back on his heels, obviously content to let him suffer. Finally, once the yelling starts to die down, when he can no longer try to gather up his insides with mutilated hands like he can stuff them back into his body and the man is just letting out soft, agonized sounds, Harrow steps up to him again, the gun in his hand.

“You deserve worse,” he informs the man, and fires off one last shot.

The silence is instant and deafening. I struggle to my feet once more, unsure when I’d ended up on the ground, and I have to use the wall as a brace the whole way. Everything hurts, and anything I try to say feels like it takes too much effort.

But Ravage is there before I can fall, his arms shaking as he holds me up and shoves his knee between my thighs to brace me. “I’ve got you, Noa,” he murmurs, leaning close. “I’ve got you, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” I finally gasp, reaching up to grip his wrists. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry , I—” My breaths shutter out of me and I look over his shoulder at Harrow. “Guess I really should’ve stayed put, huh?”

Harrow shifts, head tilted like he’s going to answer, but my body decides this is it for me. At least for the moment. My knees buckle and I fall into Ravage; thankfully, the blackness comes up to save me from the pain coursing through my body and the fear and desperation still making me want to vomit.