Page 89 of A Game So Reckless

It’s only then that I become aware of the fact that I left my mask behind.

Ignoring that niggling realization, I fight to keep moving, to battle against the currents of drinking, milling, waltzing people. My heart careens like a vehicle out of control.

I don’t know if my ribs are sufficient guardrails anymore.

“Excuse me!” I gasp as I come up against a knot of people. “Move, please! I have to get through!”

It might take years to cross this room.

But somehow, I finally make it. My legs shaking, body aching, I burst from the ballroom to the other doors and then hit the outside air.

I wrench my head back and forth, scanning the street, my lungs on fire.

He isn’t here. Of course he isn’t here.

“Valentina!”

I jolt as my name is called from a nearby car. The big, black SUV pulls over. The back window is open, and through it I see Papà’s face. His expression is so thunderous with fury that I wonder if he’s somehow already found out about what I did with Darragh tonight.

But how the hell can he be mad about that now? When Darragh’s the one he’s bound me to?

“Get in.”

When I don’t obey immediately, Papà says something to the driver. The car door opens, and Papà comes barrelling out of it like a bullet.

He will physically pull me right off the street and into the car at this rate.

“I’m coming!” I shout as I walk towards him. He doesn’t slow his approach. Doesn’t stop until he’s got his meaty hand fastened around my upper arm. With his other hand, he yanks open the car door and then shoves me into the backseat.

I sprawl awkwardly, limbs akimbo. I quickly scoot to the other side of the backseat, fixing my skirt, because I know there’s nothing underneath.

But Papà barely notices the way I’m trying so desperately to keep my clothing together. He pulls out his phone, and without speaking a single word, shoves the screen in my face.

I squint at the image, trying to figure out what the hell I’m looking at.

No, it’s not an image. It’s a video. It looks like video footage from some kind of stationary camera – maybe a security cam – aimed out a window. There’s a tall building in view across the street, and a hot blue sky behind.

“I don’t-”

“Watch.”

I shut my mouth and do it. Something is wrong.

And with the next scalding breath, I know exactly what it is.

The camera is a little lower than the roof of the building in view ahead. Which means you can’t see the centre of that rooftop.

You can’t see who’s on it.

Until they appear at the roof’s edge. One man dragging the other.

My feet tingle. My hands lose all feeling.

“Keep. Watching.”

But I don’t need to watch. I know how this scene unfolds. I’ve seen the violent tragedy of it with my own eyes once, and then countless times again in dreams.

Darragh’s dark red hair gleams. His body bends as he leans Dario back over the glass barrier.

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