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A rlo sits across from me, shuffling the deck of cards. They’re in a deep shade of maroon, a personalized set he’d gotten from our parents as his birthday gift when he turned eighteen. His eyes are focused on the cards while he’s shuffling, barely blinking. Each time the game approaches, it takes him exactly fifty-two seconds to swish them around, without blinking in the process.

When the timer stops, he lowers them down, separating them into three smaller decks. The glass table under them is as clean as it possibly can be, all three of them ignoring the loud music that seems to burst even through the soundproof VIP section of the club Arlo and I own.

For a moment, no one utters a word. Hell, we don’t even move.

Slowly, Arlo leans back into the leather chair, folding his arms in front of his chest. His eyes flicker between his girlfriend, Blair, and his best friend, Cove. The other two simply glance at Arlo, then at each other.

Silently, it’s been decided that Blair will be the first one to draw a card.

She approaches the table, her fingers softly trailing over each deck, debating which one to pick. Her brows are narrowed, her jet-black hair falls down her waist in messy curls, and as if it would help her pick easier, Arlo softly grabs her hair and pushes it behind her back, holding it there and fiddling with a strand.

Blair smiles softly, her finger stopping on the middle deck. She picks the card up and sets it aside, face down, and then sits back down next to Arlo, who kisses the top of her head affectionately, making me gag internally.

“Your turn, Cove,’’ Arlo says, sipping on his whiskey, his free hand still playing with Blair’s hair.

Cove doesn’t need much time to pick; he just chooses the one on the left, his movements mimicking Blair’s when he puts the card to the side, almost uninterested.

Out of all of us, Cove has always been the quiet type. Where Arlo is obnoxiously loud, sarcastic, and loses his temper easily, Cove is the total opposite. A man of a few words, reserved, and has the patience of a saint. When it comes to us, at least. To anyone else? One wrong word thrown Cove’s way and they’re dead.

Arlo picks a card from the last deck, setting it aside, then removes all three small decks, putting them back in their box.

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, and no one speaks. For a couple of minutes, all three stare at the selected cards, as if they would reveal themselves.

I take a deep breath, annoyed by their silence.

“So, when will I be able to participate in the game?”

“Never,’’ Blair and Arlo say simultaneously.

I roll my eyes with a sigh, leaning back and giving them both a death glare. I adore Arlo. He’s my big brother, and words cannot describe how much I love him. However, he tends to be overprotective at times, and it’s never helped.

It would be understandable if he ever had a reason to act in such a way, but not once has something happened that warranted the overprotection from him. Blair isn’t much better, either. Ever since they started dating a few years back, she has taken on the role of a big sister, and as much as I love her, it’s annoying to be treated like a child when I’m an adult, just like the two of them.

“Why?” I groan. “I’m an adult.’’

“These games, Aria,” Blair speaks softly, yet again treating me like I’m a child, “are brutal. I’ve gone through horrific things in my life, and I’m used to blood, violence, and gore. So is Arlo. You’re the only one who hasn’t been corrupted.’’

My brows narrow. “You do realize my parents are assassins, right?”

She takes a deep breath, reaching over the table and taking my hand in hers. “While that may be true, it’s also not the same. You’ve gone on missions with your parents, and all of your hits have been clean, quick, and easy. What we do during the games is anything but.’’

“It’s not fair.’’

“Enough, Aria.’’ Arlo’s stern voice hits my ears, and I snatch my hand back from Blair, then give him a glare, which doesn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. “I might consider letting you join in a few years; for now, you can have the honor of revealing the cards.’’

I scoff and flip him off.

These games, or Kortlek as the trio likes to call it, came to happen a few years back. Although I’m still being kept in the dark just how or who came up with the whole idea, it stuck, and it’s been happening four times a year.

The game is simple.

Three small decks are on the table. Each person of the trio picks a card. Once the cards are revealed, the numbers on the cards are added together, giving them a final number. The number signifies how many prey they will have.

For example, last time they did this, the cards picked out were an ace, six, and four, and when added together, they gave the number twenty-one, since they always count the ace as eleven. Last time, they had twenty-one victims, and from what I managed to overhear, they had the time of their lives.

The victims aren’t picked randomly, either.

All of their victims in the past have been men and women who have had sufficient evidence against heinous crimes against women and children, or they somehow revolved around them sexually assaulting anyone but were never sent to prison. Whether it was because of their connections to the judge, or because the jury found the evidence insufficient, the trio always did thorough research on the people.

The tricky part was always gathering them in one place, and that was always Cove’s job. Somehow, he managed to get all twenty-one of them to their secret location.

The game itself is pretty straightforward — all of them are put in one spot with a weapon of their choosing. There are big timers scattered all over the playground, and the playground changes each time. The prey has three hours to find the hunters and eliminate them. If they succeed, they live and are rewarded with a lot of money.

If they fail… well… rest in peace.

Thus far, no one has succeeded.

And the rules?

There are no rules.

It is bloody, it is gruesome, and it’s deathly.

And it’s exactly why I want to participate.

By the time I was sixteen, I’d gone on the highest roller coasters and did skydiving and bungee jumping. I’m an adrenaline junkie through and through, but those things no longer excite me. It’s dull, it’s boring, and I want something fresh.

Slowly, I take a sip of my sparkling water — because Arlo oh-so-kindly took my alcohol before I got the chance to take a proper taste of it. Because alcohol is where he draws the line, and not the fact that I kill people for a living.

With a deep breath, I turn all the cards to face us.

Blair’s card is a queen.

Cove’s card is a king.

Arlo’s card is an ace.

Somehow, the cards they picked describe them perfectly.

I immediately whine, knowing that the chance of them having that many prey again is slim to none. I’m just itching to find the location and go there myself and try it out, knowing damn well it would be futile. Mainly because my parents, Hudson and Noelle, have the front row seat at watching the game.

The entire playground is covered in many, many cameras, and from the comforts of their own home, my parents sip on their favorite whiskey and place bets on who’ll last the longest.

Thus far, Mom’s predictions were always correct, and Dad is always pissed when she wins.

“Hah,’’ Arlo chuckles, the diamond tooth gem on his canine sparkling in the dimmed light. “Looks like this time things are going to be very interesting.’’

“I don’t remember if we’ve ever had that many… playthings,’’ Blair all but squeals, her smile widening. Her eyes shine in pure excitement, and she’s barely able to contain herself.

“Okay, this definitely isn’t fair,’’ I whine again. “This is the perfect time to introduce me to your little world. Please?”

“I said no, Aria,’’ Arlo says, with a hint of warning in his tone, eyes narrowed at me.

“What if Mom and Dad say yes?”

Arlo snorts, as if I just told the world’s funniest joke. He gives me a knowing look, then takes a gulp of his whiskey, setting the half-empty glass back on the table. He sighs out, rolls his eyes, and shakes his head at me.

“It won’t happen. You may have Dad wrapped around your finger, but no amount of begging, sucking up, or giving him that pathetic puppy-dog look will actually convince him to let you do this. Why can’t you accept that we’re not letting you come for your own safety?”

“When have I ever needed your safety? When?”

Arlo rubs his temple, closing his eyes briefly. It takes him a moment to speak, likely trying to gather his thoughts and prevent himself from snapping at me, because, let’s be real, I’m annoying as fuck right now.

“The kinds of people we’re dealing with… it’s not like our usual missions, Aria,’’ he sighs, opening his eyes to look at me. “When we go on missions, you’re the sniper. From a very safe distance, you shoot unknowing and unsuspecting people. This is different. These people are given weapons, and they are not toys. They can, and they will get you killed.’’

“Just because I usually prefer to do it from afar doesn’t mean I’m useless when it comes to close-ranged combat.’’

“No, it does not,’’ he agrees. “But you’re not bulletproof either, are you?”

“Okay, you have a point, but—’’

“Just drop it, alright? It’s not happening this time, or the next one. Not until you complete the training regime you’ve been procrastinating for two years.’’

I scoff. “I wouldn’t call it procrastinating. I just never had the time, alright?”

“Oh? And what were you so busy doing?"

“Just… stuff.’’

“Stuff?” He raises an amused brow. “By stuff, you mean dropping out of college twice, or do you mean running around the world with Rose, getting high and drunk on every beach known to mankind while chasing hot men?”

I open my mouth to respond, then shut it closed.

He does have a point.

“Alright, I’ll finish the training regime for next time.’’

He snorts, pouring himself and Blair a glass of whiskey each. “Yeah, right. I’ll believe it when I see it.’’

With a deep breath, my eyes turn to the window. The VIP booth is located on a platform in one of the corners, and the glass is tinted; no one from the outside can see inside. As always, it’s packed with people. Everyone’s dancing, drinking, and having a good time, completely unaware that my brother, his girlfriend, and his best friend just randomly picked how many people they’ll kill in the near future.

My eyes shift back to Arlo.

“Out of curiosity… where’s the next location?”

Arlo doesn’t have the time to respond when a deep chuckle comes from Cove. As usual, he’s been silently observing my interaction with my brother, looking rather bored. Though now, a hint of amusement can be seen on his otherwise stoic face.

“Nice try, little bunny. We’re not that stupid.’’

“Is that nickname ever going away?”

He smirks lightly. “No, unless you get rid of your bunny teeth.’’

My two front teeth do resemble bunny’s teeth, and Cove’s been calling me little bunny since I was fourteen. He thinks I’m short, which I’m not. I’m five foot seven, an average height for a woman. He’s just abnormally tall, which makes everyone short in comparison.

I’d get rid of the teeth and fix them just to have him stop calling me that, but I can’t. They’re my most prominent feature, and I actually happen to love how they look on me. It’s cute, and it’s how I’ve always looked. He’s not calling me little bunny to make me insecure, just to annoy the shit out of me.

And it’s succeeding.

With a sip of my sparkling water, I toss on my jacket and head out of the club. I don’t bother bidding them goodbye because I’m wearing a necklace with a tracker in it, so Arlo will definitely be alerted if something happens to me.

Being in Cove’s presence is rough.

He is rough.

He is so fucking hot.

I’ve had a small crush on him since I’ve met him, though I never voiced it out. Until I got high and drunk on my eighteenth birthday, two years ago, and spilled the beans. Unfortunately for me, I wasn’t that high or drunk enough to not remember it, and although he didn’t reject me, I know he never felt the same way.

He’s always been the quiet, reserved type, distant almost. However, ever since I told him how I felt, he has made sure to put more distance between us, as if to silently let me know he’s rejecting me.

Which is why I never brought it up. It happened, and I regret it. It ruined the friendship we had, and if my brother ever found out, I’m not sure if he’d kill me for confessing to Cove or if he’d kill Cove for not reciprocating my feelings.

For now, all I can do is act like it doesn’t bother me when I see him with his usual flings or that it doesn’t hurt when he barely speaks to me. It’s the only way for my stupid feelings to stay hidden because not one scenario is viable here where I’d get a happy ending with him.

And the sooner I make my peace with it, the better.