Page 73 of Cruel Devil

I’m running, barefoot, when a girl calls my name.

I stop.

Athena.

I spin around, staring back the way I’d come, but all I see are bare concrete walls sporadically lit by the flickering lights. As they go off, plunging everything into pitch blackness, an awful panic shoots through me.

It’s.

So.

Dark.

My heart races as I strain to see in the pitch black, willing the lights to flicker back on.

They do. For a millisecond.

Outlining a figure a few yards away.

I try to scream, but no sound comes out.

Nyx! Please! Help me!

Athena’s voice comes from everywhere. My hands curl into tight fists as I stare into the dark, waiting for light so I’ll know if I was imagining it, or if there really was someone standing nearby in the dark.

The lights flicker on.

Athena.

Her hair is lank and greasy, hanging in clumps around a pale, shadowed face. She’s naked, hands wrapped around herself to ward off the cold but still shivering.

Something’s not right. Her proportions are off. She’s emaciated, like she hasn’t had food in a week, but her belly is distended.

Malnourishment?

…or is she pregnant?

Fear shudders through me.

I stumble forward, hands outstretched to either side as the lights go off again. The tunnel is so narrow I can touch both sides, but I don’t feel the rough concrete under my fingertips.

I hurtle down the tunnel in the dark, another scream trapped in my throat.

I’m coming, Athena!

The lights flicker on again. I stop in surprise. The hallway is empty.

Where the hell did she?—?

Nyx!

I spin at the sound of another voice.

Phoebe.

Oh, God…it’s Phoebe.

She’s standing, head bowed, wearing a skin-tight red dress that reaches to her neck. Which is weird, because she’s never liked turtle necks. Always told me it felt like she was being smothered. The dress is painfully scandalous, clinging lewdly to her barely developed curves.

---