Page 84

EIGHTY-FOUR

AMETHYST

Xero takes me down a narrow passageway, its walls made of femur bones and dotted with the occasional human skull. Any other time, I’d be freaked out at the sight of so much death, but I’m now anxious as hell about my state of mind.

How the hell could I have hallucinated an entire father? Looking back, it was always Mom who conducted meetings with the school, and it was Mom who drove me to college. Dad’s involvement in my life has always been distant because he’s always been busy with work.

Right?

Xero’s gaze burns the side of my face. “What are you thinking, little ghost?”

I lick my dry lips. “If my father didn’t exist, then what about the photo album and his younger brother, my Uncle Clive?”

He sighs. “I’m not saying he’s a figment of your imagination. He could be a ghost from the past.”

“Like Mr. Lawson?”

He nods, his face tightening.

The implication of his words hits like a punch to the gut. Tears sting my eyes, and I gulp. “Don’t you think I’d know if my own father was dead?”

When his brows lift, I can tell exactly what he’s thinking. “ It’s not the same with you. Your execution was scheduled. It was in the news. And someone showed me a video of it happening. By the way, you never explained how you’re still alive.”

“My brother,” he says.

“What about him?”

“He was in Alderney State at the same time, under the name John Doe.”

“But wasn’t he…” I circle my finger at my temple.

“Do you remember the subway rapist who was all over the news a few years ago?”

I shudder. “People kept filming his attacks instead of stopping him.”

“There was so much outrage about him in the press that the public wouldn’t have accepted a verdict of insanity. It was an election year, and the governor wanted to appear as if he was doing his job.”

“So he got life imprisonment?” I whisper.

He nods. “The day before my execution, I arranged for four men to focus their attacks on his face. The next day, I started a mini riot, where I got punched in the eye?—”

“So he could take your place on the electric chair?” I ask.

“Clever little ghost,” he replies with a smirk.

I stare at his profile, my breath quickening. “Wasn’t that risky? What if something went wrong?”

“There were enough of my people stationed in the prison to intervene,” he says. “My entire organization is invested in taking down my father and his operations.”

Heavy footsteps echo through the hallway, making me stiffen. “Who’s there?”

“One of my people. This part of the catacombs is completely secure,” Xero says, but pulls me into his side.

A tall man emerges from around the corner, dressed in a black hoodie and matching jeans. He looks to be in his late twenties with olive skin, deep mahogany hair, and classically handsome bone structure.

“There you are,” the stranger says, his gaze drifting to mine. “And you’ve brought a guest. ”

Xero’s grip around my shoulders doesn’t loosen. “Speak of the devil. This is Jynxson, who masterminded my prison break.”

He gives me a wink and a jaunty salute. “Nice to finally meet you in the flesh, Amethyst.”

My jaw tightens at the innuendo in his words and the way he smirks at Xero. I can already tell Jynxson is trying to make some kind of point. A muscle in Xero’s jaw flexes, and he steps forward, leaving me standing behind him, but he doesn’t openly react to Jynxson’s attempt to flirt.

“You’re supposed to be tailing the recruiter,” Xero growls.

Jynxson waves him away. “He still hasn’t left that house. I’m beginning to think that’s his home.”

“Then why are you here?”

He reaches into his pocket and extracts his phone. “The studio released this.”

Xero stares at the screen for several seconds before turning to glance at me with a concerned frown.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Did you know the woman who runs the unofficial fan club?”

“That copycat, Lizzie Bath? Not really. Why?”

When the two men exchange glances, I rush to their side and stare into the screen, immediately recognizing the banner. “This is the website that sold a day’s access to your execution video for ninety-nine dollars.”

I continue down the home page to the latest updates and find a picture of Lizzie Bath, her cheeks covered with mascara tears.

“What’s she doing there?” I ask, my stomach churning.

Jynxson slips the phone into his pocket. “It’s pretty gruesome.”

“I can handle it,” I say, trying not to let my voice tremble.

Xero wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Voices carry down here. We’ll go somewhere quieter.”

My heart thuds so intensely that its vibrations make my skin throb. Xero continues through the catacombs with Jynxson on my other side, our footsteps echoing across the walls of bones.

It’s funny how my mind works. The sight of all those disassembled skeletons in the slideshows Kayla made for the club made me shudder, but I’m surrounded by thousands of piled-up bones, and all I can think of is Lizzie’s fate. If she’s on that website, then she either participated in violent porn or worse.

“What happened to her?” I whisper.

“Is it okay to talk about it?” Jynxson asks Xero.

“Tell her.”

He blows out a breath. “I don’t know if you’ve seen one of their videos, but it’s a whole production. They have a prologue with context about the victims before the main event. It was her entire social media profile, with videos she made about the execution and the one she shot at the funeral.”

“So, she’s dead?” I ask.

“Looks like it,” Jynxson replies with a grimace.

“How?”

“Electric chair.”

“When did that happen?” I ask.

He runs a hand through his dark hair and grimaces. “Any time from forty-eight hours ago. You should see the set. It reminds me so much of the penitentiary.”

One of the rapists in the crawlspace said they’d come to my house to stage my execution. My knees buckle, but Xero’s strong arm around my shoulder keeps me standing.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Do you think they took her when they couldn’t find me?” I whisper.

“It’s possible,” Xero replies. He turns to Jynxson. “Any activity in the studio last night?”

“The twins say there was none.”

We continue to a large room with arched ceilings that stretch at least twelve feet high. Cylindrical lights hang from metal rods, illuminating concrete walls and floors. My gaze drops to a thick mat the size of my green room.

“What’s this place?” I ask.

“You’re going to study how those men took Lizzie and work out a way to escape them,” Xero says.

My heart flips, only to land in my plummeting stomach. “Now?”

He nods. “Now.”

I glance from Xero to Jynxson to the phone he extracts from his pocket. “Do you still think they want me?” When he doesn’t answer, I add, “But you said you’d protect me from the studio.”

“Five of the men they sent after you have failed to return. They won’t take that lightly. And everyone living here in the catacombs learns self-defense.”

“But I don’t live here.”

The moment I say those words, I cringe. Xero was there when Mom not only screamed about auctioning the house, but implied she had been waiting for the day she could finally cut me loose. In forty-eight hours, I’ll live nowhere.

“Are you sure about that, little ghost?”

My insides twist into painful knots. I’m all alone. Myra is too freaked out by the date rape and murder-suicide to deal with my troubles. Dad may or may not exist. And Relaney is probably still behind bars for running a cannabis farm. My only ally in the world is my stalker and his band of assassins, who are only keeping me alive so he can get his revenge.

This is too painful, too bleak, too real. My fingers twitch toward the overnight bag. I need a few pills to soften the edges. What am I saying? It’s the same medication that blurred my judgment, leading me to get social-media famous enough to attract the attention of snuff movie makers.

Slamming a lid on my self-pity, I curl my hands into fists and meet Xero’s stern gaze.

“You’re right,” I say, mustering every ounce of bravado. “Show me what I need to see.”

Jynxson saves us from watching the prologue. The video starts with shots of an apartment building’s exterior before switching to footage from the men’s body cameras as they move through the hallways.

One of them knocks on a door, holding a parcel, while the other stands out of sight.

“Joanna Mazek?” the one at the door asks.

“Who is it?” replies a familiar voice.

“XCS with a package for you that needs signing,” he says.

“Hold on a second.”

The video cuts to the door, which swings open to reveal a middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair, over-plucked brows, and dark circles beneath her eyes. It takes a moment for me to recognize this is Lizzie Bath without all the makeup.

Her gaze drops to the parcel for a millisecond before she’s shoved backward with a hand clamped over her mouth. After that, it’s a crazy montage of close-ups, long shots, and mid-shots of her struggling against her attacker. It looks like his partner took the time to set up a tripod.

Throughout this, Xero’s gaze burns holes into the side of my face. He’s studying my reaction, seeing if I’ll break. If Lizzie died because of me, I can’t shy away from watching. Someone has to witness what she suffered. I keep my features in a tight mask, not wanting to show any weakness.

Lizzie’s apartment is a studio barely larger than my kitchen, with white appliances that have yellowed over time. After gagging and restraining her, the men throw her bound body on a threadbare sofa before rifling through her closets.

“Are they robbing her, too?” I ask.

“You don’t know?” Xero asks.

I tear my gaze off the footage. “Know what?”

“They need the outfit and wigs she wears on camera to perform. Otherwise, she’s just an ordinary woman who means nothing to the viewers.”

“He’s right,” Jynxson mutters. “Xero’s execution video had the shortest prologue because he’d already gone viral.”

In other words, they broke into Lizzie Bath’s apartment because she’s attached to Xero’s popularity. More specifically, they went after her because they couldn’t find me.

I sway on my feet, my chest squeezing so tightly that my lungs reduce to a quarter of their capacity. Shallow breaths whistle in and out of my nostrils, barely providing enough oxygen to stay upright.

Shit.

What if I jinxed Lizzie with all my resentment?

Xero’s lips graze my ears. “Focus on the restraints. What are they using?”

“Are those zip ties?” I rasp.

“Good girl. What else?”

“They stuffed a rag into her mouth and taped it shut. ”

He nods. “Anything else?”

“Scarves,” I say through clenched teeth. “They’re grabbing everything they can to tie her up.”

“Why do you think that is?” Jynxson asks.

I glance over at Xero’s friend. “To make the video more creative?”

He makes a see-saw motion with his hand. “They don’t want to travel with obvious restraints in case they get stopped. The less incriminating evidence they carry, the better.”

The screen goes black, then the next scene is Lizzie fully dressed and made up, being shoved against a mugshot board. Men dressed as officers poke her with their batons, forcing her to face the camera and strip.

Nausea clogs my throat. All my intentions to witness Lizzie’s ordeal waver, and I find myself whispering, “Do I have to watch this part?”

“I can increase the speed,” Jynxson says.

“You need to understand the threat,” Xero growls. “You can’t hide away from what’s out there or assume they’ll be satisfied with Lizzie Bath. This could be you, and you need to be prepared.”

I want to close my eyes, stick my fingers in my ears, and escape the guards’ laughter and the sounds of her whimpering. But Xero is right. Even if it’s for my peace of mind, I still need to know how to fight, and more importantly, escape bindings.

Tears sting my eyes, and I swallow over and over, trying to force them back. “Alright,” I rasp. “I won’t miss a single scene.”