Page 76 of The Oath We Give

The one person I want to tell more than anyone else, and I can’t because he’ll be the first one to check me back into the hospital.

My computer screen flashes at me, the original sender’s IP address displaying across the front. I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling a little relief that the hard part of this is done.

“It’s not Easton,” I mutter.

The IP address he gave us doesn’t match. Which means destroying Stephen’s old office while Easton watched after we held him at gunpoint was fruitless.

All we found out was that Wayne Caldwell is, in fact, footing the bill for his mistress and her only son. I know Alistair says it doesn’t bother him, schools his features and moves forward.

But I know him.

I know the young boy in him that never got the childhood he deserves from his father is hurt. Which is exactly why when I went to pick him up today, Briar was in a foul mood, and he was beating up a punching bag.

The wounds a parent leaves on their child never go away.

They only grow with them into adulthood.

“Is it Stephen?”

I shrug, looking over my shoulder at Alistair. “Probably. I don’t know for sure. Either way, whoever sent it is about to have their entire hard drive wiped.”

The custom software I’ve spent years building was built for things like this. A few minutes on, the clock ticks by before I deliver a malware to their system. They won’t even have time to know it’s there before it destroys their system and erases itself.

“It’ll erase the video?” Thatcher asks from behind me.

I nod, leaning back in my chair and placing my hands behind my head. “Unless they made a copy, which I doubt considering how shitty their firewalls are, it’ll be gone in the next twenty seconds.”

One problem down, several more to go.

At least me burning a body won’t be on national news.

“Feel like celebrating this little victory?”

Three heads whip toward Alistair, curiosity passing through each of us.

“Briar wants to play a game,” he mutters, shoving his phone into his leather jacket pocket.

A game.

The Graveyard. The Labyrinth. The Gauntlet. The Peak.

All hosts to a different wicked game at least one of us has partaken in the past several years, varying in danger and always unhinged.

We were fifteen when we competed in the Gauntlet for the first time. The first day of spring, West Trinity Falls and Ponderosa Springs go to war. The games and locations change every year, but the adrenaline remains. The game that year wasFugitive. You had some kids driving cars, playing as cops, and the other half were your escaped prisoners. The goal was to steal something of value from the opposing team’s town and make it back to your home limits without getting caught.

We’d won after we stole a police cruiser from West Trinity’s local department. That was also the first time Rook’s dad had to bail us out of jail.

We’d been playing games since we were kids. It’ll always be something that pumps adrenaline through our veins like liquid fire.

Rook snorts, a smirk adorning his lips. “I’m sure that has nothing to do with your primal/prey kink the two of you are into.”

“Fuck off, Van Doren. You branded Sage’s ass. With a lighter.” Alistair lifts his middle finger in his direction, but Rook’s response is simply to stick out his tongue and wink like a child. “Plus, it wasn’t Briar’s idea. It was Lyra’s.”

Thatcher chuckles under his breath, a rare sound that only comes out when his girlfriend is around or mentioned. He presses his thumb and forefinger into his eyes, shaking his head.

Lyra is sneaky, going to the girls knowing Thatch would say no. Not because he doesn’t want to play but because with everything going on, his main priority is protecting Ponderosa Springs’ favorite bug queen.

“Loner Society initiation for Coraline,” he says.

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