Page 82 of Wanna Play A Game?

Sawyer glances back at me. Then he turns back to Ryder. “She’s mine.”

The room goes deathly silent. Miles grabs me a little tighter.

“You need to get rid of this problem, and it needs to be soon.” Ryder points at Sawyer. “I respect the rules of the hunt, but I need her figured out. We have too much going on right now.”

Ryder turns and leaves the house.

Sawyer stands still, looking out after Ryder.

Miles steps back and holds out his hand. He says so quietly I almost don’t hear it over the ringing in my ears, “Come on, little shadow. Let’s get you home.”

Chapter 38

Cali

Iride with Sawyer and Miles in the truck back to the house. The whole ride back, all I can think about is how much I need a drink. Wine, tequila, whiskey, hell, even beer. I’m feeling all kinds of things that I don’t want to feel right now. Especially panic. Sawyer marked me as his but acts like he’s going to kill me as soon as I bore him. Miles is continuing his nice-guy act, and Ryder clearly wants to kill me. I’m a liability to all of them.

I turn to look out the window. It’s still the middle of the night, but I feel so wound up I’m not even close to being tired.

When we get back, Miles doesn’t grab me. He gives me the illusion of choice as we walk back up to the house. And I walk in with no fight. What other choice do I have? Clearly, running is not going to work for me.

I need to work smarter than I have been. I need to figure out the game.

When we get inside, I roughly ask, “Where’s Ryder?”

“Probably in the shower already.” Miles goes to the fridge and starts pulling food out.

Holy shit, I’m starving. And shaking.

Sawyer watches me. “I’ll make pancakes.”

“No, dude,” Miles groans. “You make a fucking disaster, and I can’t handle it right now.”

I take a seat at the kitchen island, and Sawyer winks at me. It makes me pause. In the light, I can see his eye is swollen and red. Ryder must have gotten him. And yet, he’s acting like nothing happened.

“You’re just hangry.” Sawyer grabs some things. “Bunny, come help.”

I stand robotically. It’s better than sitting still, letting the panic crawl over my skin. Sawyer grabs a boxed mix out of the cabinet. “Bowls are under the island.”

I lean down to grab them. When I come back up, Sawyer is wearing a pink frilly apron.

I blink. It’s so opposite to the unpredictable killer I’ve come to expect that it throws me.

Sawyer looks at me. “Oh good, you found them.”

“Sawyer,” Miles asks, “what the hell is on her neck?”

I jump at his sudden sharp tone like I’ve done something wrong.

Sawyer laughs. “My collar.”

Miles raises an eyebrow and takes me in. I look at him with uncertainty. I expect him to yell at Sawyer, but he doesn’t. He simply nods. “Looks hot.”

I flush.

We set about making the food. We are all acting like their boyfriend didn’t just try to kill me. Like they don’t have plans to kill me later.

Miles hands me a fork to stir and gives me a little smile. A lump forms in my throat, and against all reason, I wish that the rest of my life would just slip away and this scene right here could be real.