Page 9 of The Game

There is shuffling, a slight, high-pitched whimper, and then, “In a shipping container in bay one.”

“Be there soon.”

Stowing my phone, I jog back to the entrance and out into the frigid night. So much fog has condensed over the bay that it chokes my breath and diffuses the light to near nothingness. Nick’s car jumps out from the darkness sooner than anticipated, but I follow his orders. Something about the tone of his voice has my skin crawling. The first aid kit is heavier than most, but in our line of work, it makes sense. Nick has patched up a few bullet wounds of ours before.

I call Tristan, and then Maks, but quickly make my way to Nick. It is easy to spot where he is, bright, bluish light issuing from the open doors of the container, his two mismatched mutts wagging their tails slowly and whining as they stare inside at whatever awaits me. Setting my jaw, my fingers grip the coarse fabric handles of the kit even tighter, and I prepare my mind to witness whatever it is that is around that corner.

As I approach, my vision becomes tunneled, my heart thudding an angry beat against my ribs, and when I round that sharp corner, the sight that greets me is far, far worse than any nightmare I could ever conjure up, but I set my jaw and push forward as though I do not see it.

I don’t see a frail Ellie clutched naked in Nick’s arms. I don’t see the initials and tally marks etched into her skin. I don’t see her bruised and battered face, or the way her ribs heave against her skin as she softly cries and pathetically tries to push him away.

Sinking to my knees before them, Nick doesn’t bother to look at me.

“Clear vial. Measure out the entire dose.”

I obey as though I am nothing more than a robot, a machine built to do his bidding. Ellie cries and shakes her head, her words coming into clarity before dropping into an incoherent mumble. “P-please n-no more.”

Ripping the plastic seal off the syringe, I fill it with air before plunging the needle into the top of the sedative vial and pushing down. I’ve done this to Tristan a time or two. The thought almost makes me smile until I remember why I am here, on my knees, doing this. Ellie is Alice’s friend, arguably her closest friend. They had slumber parties and organized a bake sale to raise money for breast cancer awareness in honor of Ellie’s late mother. Ellie was always quiet and timid but kind and sweet, doing the dishes when our backs were turned, sending Alice flowers when she caught a bad flu bug.

An innocent life, ruined, destroyed, and all for what? For having a mere association with the Fordson’s? With us?

“Shh,” Nick whispers so softly I almost miss it. “You’re safe now.”

I know him well enough now to recognize the fury coating his tone, no matter how hard he attempts to hide it for her sake. Passing over an alcohol swab and the syringe, Nick swipes an area on her hip and doesn’t hesitate to plunge the needle into her muscle. She winces and mumbles something but relaxes against him quickly. She’ll be out for a while.

He passes back the empty syringe, and I dispose of it in the little orange biohazard bag. His fingers trace the shape of her face, brushing her sticky hair away from her bloody forehead. The sound of shifting paws on concrete and low growls has me turning quickly, ready to draw and shoot, but Tristan calls out to Luna and Kai, and my shoulders relax.

“What’d ya find—”

As soon as his eyes fall, his jaw locks and his nostrils flare. Ever since Alice disappeared, he’s kept close contact with Ellie. That, coupled with his new vigilante excursions, makes me realize what this sight is doing to him. He’s going to snap, and soon. Jerking my chin to the door in warning, I stand and ready myself to square off with him, but Maks is hot on his heels. Shouldering his way past, his cobalt eyes fall to the grisly visage below, and something akin to pure evil flickers in his gaze. I should count myself lucky I’ve never been on his bad side. He stares with no other trace of emotion for a while longer, then nods and stalks away like a phantom.

“Alice is…attending classes at U of Dub. Get with Jonah this week,” Nick says, voice strained even more so now. “Her files are heavily encrypted by an expert. Someone doesn’t want her on the radar.”

My pulse quickens and sinks, at constant war. Should I be elated at this news? Worried? Sickened by what I see before me? Frightened that this could be Alice at any given point?

We’d thought we’d been doing the right thing, protecting her by killing her father after he continued to show up unannounced, after the death threats began rolling in. Alice knew, acknowledged what it was we did that one fateful night. And then three days later, like clockwork, she was gone, and the holes in our chests have only festered but never once began to heal.

Reaching for Tristan’s shoulder, I give him a squeeze and brush past, locking my jaw and beginning the process of releasing the image painted forever in my mind. If I can block it out, tuck it away to only be examined when absolutely necessary, life will be a little easier for me. But as Tristan shrugs me off, eyes still glued to Ellie’s now-slackened body, the slight twitch of his nose indicates he’s too far gone.

“I’ll see you at home,” I say lowly in Russian. “Don’t get caught.”

CHAPTER6

Alice

Hanging suspended and upside down above the circular springboard floor has the blood rushing to my head in a dizzying manner. The silks are now warm against my naked skin, and as my vision pulses, I wonder if I would die from a fall this high if I passed out. I am tempted to test that theory, especially with how busy we are tonight.

This underground space is massive, decorated like the dark underbelly of a circus, the kind of traveling freak shows parents warn children about getting swept into. There are fancy risers for seating, with the most expensive spots in the middle-top. Golden cages line the walkway into the main dome, filled with those dancing women. Some are sporting fresh welts across their backs and thighs, punishments for unknown crimes. There is even soft lighting from old bulbous bulbs, and the ceiling is made to look like the top of a striped circus tent, the fabric twisted and grimy after an unknown amount of years suspended above this hell.

The swish of Meg’s auburn hair catches my eye, and as I swing forward, I switch positions as gracefully as I can, keeping my eyes on my tenuous friendship-personified. She’s being led to the back rooms by an older man who frequents this joint. I think I remember his name, what she’s said of him before. He’s too old to get it up, so he makes her get off in front of him while he sips expensive scotch. Her red lingerie set glints and sparkles in the low, golden light before she disappears into the black hallway directly across from the dressing rooms.

Swinging around and changing positions again, I allow my long hair to sweep gracefully above the ground. In the crowd is some blond businessman with his frat boy friends, jeering and pointing at my tits. At least up here, no one can hurt me but myself. I am free, flying through the air gently in my own little world. My calming thoughts are interrupted by Freakshow readying his next act on the side of the circle. He’s smiling down at a new girl, his grin touching his eyes as she twists her hands nervously together and pauses to motion around. Annoyed that I cannot hear their discussion, I want to look away, but I’m drawn in again by his clear blue eyes.

She’s naked from the waist up, yet he never so much as flickers his gaze down, arms crossed nonchalantly, as though conversing with naked women is something he does daily. I mean, it’s probably true, but I still fucking hate his guts. Teddy is what they call him, and I’m not sure if it is a nickname or his actual name. Either way, he annoys the shit out of me, just another man oppressing women. Puke.

Changing positions out of anger, when I swing forward again, I regret it instantly. Daniel is descending the rickety stairs from the upper office, Dick by his side, along with another man I’ve never seen before. He’s younger, bald headed, dressed rather casually to be a patron. They pause at the bottom, talking quietly. Dick discreetly passes him an envelope, but my heart catches in my throat when Daniel’s eyes glass the floor and then shift upward, finding mine. His sick smirk is confirmation enough; after work tonight, I’ll be at his mercy again.

He’ll call me a good girl, tell me they taught me how to suck cock like a whore, then threaten to bring me their hearts on silver platters if I ever speak of this place or attempt to leave. Losing them—whether I am here or free—would kill me. I would’ve left long ago if it weren’t for one tiny detail: the day those assholes cornered me to present their blackmail, they’d divulged there is a rat somewhere in the Stefanov’s ranks, someone willing to take them out, someone close enough to them that they can only be protected now by me. I don’t know who it is, obviously, or I would’ve run months ago and went to them for help, but who can I trust to help them, or me? If there’s someone close to them willing to betray their bond, then I won’t risk that.

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