Page 107 of The Devoted Game

“Vivian Grace?”

She froze. Listened.

Where the hell had that come from?

“Is that you, Vivian?”

Cocking her head in that direction, she moved toward the wall that separated her cubicle from the next one. The voice was a little muffled but definitely real.

“Talk to me some more,” he whispered.

Male. Vaguely familiar. Too low to tell for sure.

“Who’s there?” She touched the metal wall standing between her and the voice. Leaned her ear close to it. “Is Fincher holding you too?”

“It’s good to hear your voice,” he said, loud enough for every single nuance to filter through the wall.

Vivian drew back sharply. “Who ...” She moistened her lips. “Who are you?”

A quiet laugh. “Surely you haven’t forgotten me already. I know it’s been a long time, but we knew each other so well. Didn’t we,Number Thirteen?”

Vivian stumbled away from the wall. Impossible!Oh my God.She fell back another step. Oh no.Oh God, no.

“Only in my head,” she murmured, her body quaking. “Only in my head.”Not real. Not real.Please, God.Not real!

“When I close my eyes, I can still see your lips. Such perfect, beautiful lips,” he murmured through the wall. “I want you to do to me all those things you did for him. Only this time, after I’m done, I’ll killyou.”

She shook her head. This had to be a sick joke. The story. Goodman. This was her fault. Fincher had gotten the idea from her story, and he was playing a trick on her.

But the voice ... Oh God, the voice was the same.

“I know you’re there,” he singsonged in the breathy voice she remembered all too well. “Come closer to the wall so I can imagine touching you.”

Her feet tripped over each other as she backed as far away as possible ... all the way to the metal wall on the other side. Her chest verged on rupturing as the organ inside slammed against it mercilessly.

No.She knocked the fear away. Grabbed back her courage. She was not that same hopeless, helpless seventeen-year-old girl. She damned sure wasn’t a victim. Not anymore.

“All we ever wanted was for you to make us happy, Number Thirteen. Was that too much to ask?”

Fury hurtled through her, and she charged back to the thin metal wall that separated them. Yeah, she was in trouble here. But, by God, he would have to kill her first to keep her from killing him.

Vivian bit back her rage and forced a soft, calm voice. “Let me tell you what I’ll do for you,” she warned.

“Tell me,” he urged, his voice excited. “Please tell me. Just thinking about those lips has me hard.”

Another eruption of rage roared through her. She gritted her teeth to hold back what she really wanted to say. “I’ll suck you just like I did him. I’ll make you come so fast your head will spin.”

“Oh . . . yes . . . yes . . . that would be nice.”

“And then I’ll tear out your jugular with my teeth just like I did your fucking friend’s.”

Thirty-One

90minutes remaining. . .

1000 Eighteenth Street, 1:15 a.m.

“The feed has gone live again!”