Page 128 of Dark Little Game

The fire inside me was just too much—the rage, the pain, the all-consuming desire to inflict pain in a world that only hurt.

My whole world was hostile.

And I wasn’t afraid of fighting back.

In the flames there was too much feeling, too much emotion, too much reality. Raw like an open wound. A fire that burned.

And so I snuffed it out.

Until my whole world was covered in ash.

Cold.

Lifeless.

It was easier when I was completely alone, but now I see there’s still an ember smoldering in that fire.

A red little ember, ready to catch kindling.

Ready to erupt into flame and consumeme whole.

I drop my binoculars,leaning my head back as the first snowflakes of the season fall along my face.

It doesn’t even feel cold enough to snow.

The air is still, especially here in the cluster of trees at the top of the hill above Red Row.

I have a perfect view of the back and side of the Double Daggers house, and over the past two hours, I haven’t seen a goddamned thing.

I raise my binoculars again, looking all around their yard and in through the large back window of their house. A few snowflakes hit the glass, making blurred spots in the image.

It’s like every member of Double Daggers has a squeaky-clean public image and not a shred of dirt on him.

I’ve researched their online presence for the last three days, and it’s turned up nothing. Double Daggers have been a secret society for longer than Onyx, and by all accounts, theyshouldhave more skeletons in their closets. But they don’t.

Luros is only more of the same.

The girls have a sorority that’s meant to help them succeed in the world, and all of the information I can find about them practically makes them look like saints.

The guys in Onyx, especially Roman and one of his buddies,loveto talk about the past “wars” between the three secret societies, but I can’t find anything on that, either.

I know I need to talk to Roman.

But something about him makes me uncomfortable, too.

I left London to escape a crime family, and I’m not exactly in the market of getting within an inch of another one. I work better alone.

The snowflakes are getting fatter and wetter now, and I’m getting nowhere trying to spy on Double Daggers. I drop the binoculars again, stuffing them into my black backpack and standing up.

When I check my phone, Rayne’s message gives me a dull ache in my chest.

Tell me you’re okay.

Every time I hear from him I feel like I’m holding my breath. Like I’vebeenholding my breath for so long that my lungs are starting to burn.

Actually, it’s more like Ican’tfucking breathe.

It’s bad to want things.