Page 50 of Terror Tuesday

The water shuts off, and I stiffen. This is it. Vanq on.

He flicks off the light in the bathroom and strolls next to me, stopping suddenly in the pitch black.

I move.

Silently, I grab him by the neck as he makes a choking sound. His hands reach for my arms, but I cut his in doing so.

“Fuck!” he yells, agony cracking his voice as the warm spray hits my covered face. In his motion to get away, he stumbles back and falls over a chair. As soon as he lands on the ground, I’m on top of him, blade to his throat. Pale moonlight streams through the window and highlights his widened eyes.

Eyes filled with life andfear.

He’s guilty.

“I-Is this about Naomi?” he asks, and I freeze. “They sent you to take care of me, didn’t they?”

The words aren’t loud. They don’t have to be. They slice cleaner than my knife. I stare down at him, my grip loose now.

Heknowsabout Naomi.

Olivia’s best friend and this guy, the camera footage thatThetahas, probably disposed of by the enforcers to protect the guilty… Malik saw too much.

His voice on the phone outside, talking about the sacrifice. They thought it made him a liability. But I know it makes him awitness. Maybe even a brother who can work with me.

“How do you know about that?” I ask on an exhale, though it’s more plea than threat. All pretending I don’t know… If I can get him to admit he saw the footage, maybe there’s hope. How much can I get him to talk? “What did they tell you?”

His face shifts from fear to something far worse. Recognition.

Like we’re both stuck in the same rigged game, and he’s just now seeing my number, too. But he doesn’t speak. His lips form a solid line as if he’s decided I’m the enemy. Coward.

Or maybesurvivor.

The blade dips closer to his pulse. Not cutting. Justtoyingwith the idea of sinking it deeper.

I want to believe this is still salvageable. That I canfixit. That this doesn’t end in another name etched on the ledger of the forgotten. But that buzzing’s still in my head, louder now. Not from his toothbrush. From the memory. The scroll. The oath.

Failure is not an option.

Fear is for the guilty.

Vanq wants to obey only to stay alive.

Valen wants out.

Using his shoulders, I shake him roughly. “Fucking say something. Give me a reason.” It comes out as a sob, and I hate that. If he’d just admit it, I could get him on my side. But the man isn’t saying a word.

His eyes dart to the door. Not in a warning—just panic. The sheer human desire toescape.And that’s when it happens.

Crash!The door bursts open behind me.

“Yo, anybody got some?—”

Carl.FuckingCarl. He freezes at the scene now fully aglow with the incoming light from the hall. Condoms in hand. Eyes wide. A beat of silence passes, so thick it could crack bone.

And then, Malik releases a primal scream.

My entire glove slaps down on his mouth as I whip my head toward our new guest. He stands there like an idiot, plastic wrappers spilling onto the carpet, gaping, eyes darting from me to Malik, to the blade in my hand.

He moves.