Page 171 of River of Deceit

I wrap my arms around River’s neck and lethimfill my vision. I don’t need the shadows.

“But you want what I want,” I point out, smiling. “It’s always been that way between us.”

He doesn’t reply to that, instead stepping back and shaking me off before taking another step backwards, into the darkness so he’s partially obscured even this close to me. “No. It hasn’t.”

A harsh light suddenly turns on and shines directly at me. I raise my arm to cover my eyes.

Sneakers squeak on the smooth floor, and footsteps echo in the large room.

“River? What’s going on?” I ask.

“River? What’s going on?” a male voice mocks me. “Stupid cunt can’t figure out when she’s being played.”

Played?

I step out of the light, but before I can get far, somebody grabs me and shoves me back.

“Whoever did that is going to regret it,” I say viciously. I reach into my hoodie pocket and pull out my knife.

Before I can get it unsheathed, another person grabs my hand. I stomp on their foot, but they only pull me closer.

The cologne reaches my nose. I look up, and the light silhouettes his profile.

Blaze.

“None of that, Panda,” Blaze says. “You don’t need the knife tonight.”

My lips break out into a grin. “Is this a sex game? Do you want to go back to me pretending I don’t want you?”

Someone else reaches into my pocket, and even though I try to twist in Blaze’s grasp to stop them, he has a tight hold on me.

One hand wrests the knife away from me, then another hand delves into my pocket.

My lucky charm.

River’s bones.

Someone’s holding it up, and it doesn’t take me long to realize that it’s River. River, whose expression is twisted in anger; River, who doesn’t even look like himself right now.

“Give that back,” I hiss, struggling against Blaze. “Those are mine!”

“Actually, I think they belong to him,” another voice I recognize speaks up, sounding deadly calm.

Asch.

“Unless you’ve taken someone else’s finger,” he continues.

“No,” I protest. “But River gave those up for me. They belong to me. It’s not like they can re-attach to him at this point anyway. Really, River, you don’t even need the pinky bones.”

What am I saying?

That’s not going to make River calm down.

River laughs, a low, ugly sound. “Maybe I should take yours, then. See how much you like being down to four fingers. Your knife is sharp enough to do the job, I bet. Your Uncle Slayer wouldn’t have given you something that wasn’t.”

“Would that make you calm down?” I ask. My pinky twitches, but maybe it’s a good compromise.

Yes. He can take my bones, and I’ll have his. That’s a fair trade!