Page 241 of Hateful Games

With each step, my heart climbs up my throat and it begins to pound harder once I stop before the black door. Strange yet not, the hall is deserted and no one barges in, telling me it’s off-limits.

It creaks when I open over the vibrating noise of the music below.

My heels click when I cross the threshold.

It’s pitch black.

I encounter another set of short flights. My hand on the banister, I ascend using the flashlight on my phone. Bringing it was both a necessity and a mistake. Just as I reach the top floor, I decide to hide it on the floor in a corner.

Risky but better than to lose it in the throes of action.

“Hello,” I call out, not expecting a response.

But I know he’s here.

My masked predator.

I paint a fantasy in my head, to submerge myself into the scene. I came for a night out with my friends but found myself lost and taking a wrong turn. Ending into a secret maze full of danger with no way ou—

Slam!

A low yelp slips past my lips at the harsh sound. With my hand pressed to my chest, I realize it’s the downstairs door being closed. But I already did that. Does that mean someone came to check? Did they lock it? It wasn’t mentioned in the rules.

Rushing back down, I twist the knob and pull.

It doesn’t budge.

“What the hell?” I mutter. Never in the last seven years was I locked in. The door is always left unlocked to make a quiet exit. It looks like it locks from the outside. Which is bad for me.

I swallow the bubbling panic.

Knocking won’t work because over the music, there’s no chance of my voice reaching. Suddenly, I’m regretting stepping foot outside of the suite. Climbing upstairs, I bend to grab my phone.

Full-blown panic returns.

It’s gone.

“Please, no,” I whisper, frantically searching all over the floor. It was my last hope. On their site, there’s an option to end the play at any time. Now, I can’t. Or even call Nova to come get me. Taking a deep breath, I focus on a way out.

A shadow on my right moves.

Causing my heart to lurch in fright.

“Whoever you are, I’ve changed my mind,” I shout. “I’m not playing,”

Again, no response.

Pressing my palm against the wall for guidance, I quietly walk deeper while hoping to find another exit. There has to be one. I don’t even entertain any other possibilities. Heart pounding, palms sweating, I’m only a few feet ahead when fingers brush against my back.

“Ahh!” I scream, whipping around.

Empty air greets me.

“I said I’m not playing!” I growl in frustration.

Confident footsteps sound in the distance, where I see soft light peeking in over the floorboard. Hope flares that it’s an exit, and I run toward it. In my hurry, though, I forget I’m wearing heels that give me away.

Just as my fingers brush the knob, a heavy arm locks around my waist and yanks me away from freedom. I buck and yell, “No!”

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