Page 182 of Dance With A Devil

The second the truck skids into the drive, all of us spill out like blood from a fresh wound. No words. Just boots pounding pavement, engines still cooling behind us as we storm into the house like a goddamn warfront.

Ryan waits in the foyer, face pale, eyes wide like she’s already seen the Reaper.

“Where is she?” I demand.

“In her room,” she starts, voice tight. “But, Wyck.”

The way she says my name, like it’s fragile, like I’m about to shatter, tells me everything I don’t want to know.

“What is it?” My voice is low, sharp. A blade against the tension.

Ryan drops her head, like the truth’s too heavy to hold. “She won’t wake up.”

“The fuck you mean she won’t wake up?” Dash snaps, jaw ticking.

“She asked to be alone,” Ryan chokes out. “We were right down the hall. Then she screamed, one of those screams that rattles the bones in your body, that makes yourun. And by the time we got there… she was just… gone. Breathing, but not there.”

I don’t wait to hear more. I bolt.

Fingers slam the elevator button like I’m trying to punch through steel. The guys and Ryan pile in behind me, the space thick with dread and rage.

That cheerful elevator music kicks in.

“Someone change this shit. It’s depressing,” Ryan mutters, like humor might keep her sane.

“Yeah,” Wells grits. “Top of the priority list.”

Ding.

Doors open. We’re off.

The hallway stretches, an optical illusion straight from a nightmare. No matter how fast I run, the door to our room never seems to get closer. My pulse is in my ears. My girl, my Little Fox, is behind that door. And something’s wrong.Verywrong.

Finally, I reach it.

My hand hovers over the knob. For half a second, I hesitate. Like touching it might make this real.

No time for that shit.

I twist. Push.

Fred’s there, sitting stiff on the edge of the bed. And there she is. Athens. My girl. Still. Too still.

“Has she woken up?” Ryan asks, breath hitching.

Fred just shakes her head. No words. Just a silent, broken no.

“Move,” I growl.

Fred obeys instantly, sliding off the bed. I take Athens into my arms, her skin ice cold, her breath so faint I almost believe she’s already gone.

“Athens… baby,” I whisper, cradling her. “Wake up, Little Fox. Come back to me.”

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t even twitch. But there’s a tear, just one, sliding down from her closed eyes.

Fuck.

“Where the fuck is Karter?” I snarl.