Page 45 of The Trap

I look to Raiden and for some bizarre reason I feel the need to spew out two words I already know will piss her off. “Ladies first,” I blurt as if we aren’t contestants in a literal death trap.

“Holy fuck, you really are unbelievable. If you’re chicken shit, why don’t you just say so?” She rolls her eyes, going back to reach for the first box when I snatch her wrist, pulling her away from it, forcing her to look at me.

“I was only trying to be a gentleman since you seem to…” I pause, my jaw is so fucking tight from anticipation on what is in the compartments on the door, it feels like it’s going to snap in half.

“Seem to what? Get off on being stuck in this claustrophobic prison with literal blood and guts on the floor?” She nudges her head forward, her raven eyes bulging to emphasize her words. “For the record, I hate small spaces like this.” Again, she pauses, and for some reason I’m taken aback by her admission. Raiden always seems so calm and collected—bratty as hell, but still calm. Hearing that something bothers her is unexpected to say the least.

“Really?” I ask surprised, grip still on her.

She wiggles slightly from it and I finally loosen my fist. She takes a long breath in, turning away from me to face the door once more. “Yes, believe it or not. I’m afraid of things too, which is why I really want to get going with this. I need to see if my fucking cousin is actually dead or if this fucker is messing with us.”

Would you look at that. A truth. A rare occasion for Raiden, but her honesty, her vulnerability fuels me.

“I can go first,” I offer, stepping next to her, my hand meeting hers by the box labeled ‘one’.

She swats away my hand playfully, not with the anger I would expect in this moment.

“No, it’s fine. No offense, but I don’t think you can handle it,” she singsongs.

I scoff, forever taken by surprise at how fresh she can be.Here she is saying she’s afraid and she still won’t let me help her. I should let it go, because there’s no winning with her, but I can’t. Anger takes over –indignance.

“Who did this to you?” I blurt.

She looks at me confused. “Excuse me?”

I shake my head. “I mean, what happened to you that makes you so–” I pause, flustered. “So,” I begin again but still can’t find the correct word.

“Cold?” she answers for me.

“Yes, cold. What happened?”

“Life,” she responds flatly. “Life happened, okay? Life continuously showed me how cold it could be. How ruthless and unfair so I figured, let me one up it and be this way so I can do what I need to do without being so damn paralyzed every two seconds. Now if you’re done with your questions we still need to get out of here so, let’s get on with it,” she shrugs motioning to the box.

Speechless I watch her hand lift the box, opening it just an inch. “Listen I know, you were just trying to be a gentleman,” she says in a playful tone that skates the line of sincerity.

My lips part, ready to defend myself, but she turns her head to face me, an unexpected smile on her lips. “But you lost any possible opportunity of being a gentleman the second you drugged me and broke into my house.”

Fuck, who am I kidding? She’s right. I won’t even fight it by pointing out that she faked being knocked out and wrapped those delicious thighs around my head, pinning me to her pussy, forcing me to eat her like I was going to anyway.

I’m a mess when I’m around her. A fool who suddenly forgets how to act, doing desperate things just to have her to myself, not even considering how wrong they may be.

Her hand moves from the box to my cheek. She taps it playfully with her palm before brushing it delicately against the rough stubble along my jaw. “It’s okay,” she breathes, stepping closer to me, her face grazing mine. “I never said I wanted you to be one anyway,” she winks. “Well, maybe you are sort of a gentleman. I mean you only gave me melatonin in my drink after all. If you really were unhinged you would’ve opted for something stronger,” she mumbles and my brow furrows in confusion.

“Melatonin?” I ask, wondering how the hell she knew that and why that’s what Maddox gave me. Not that I’m complaining, I didn’t want to give her something strong even though I was stupid enough to take something from him to use.

“Yeah, melatonin always makes me super sleepy right away, like I’m stuck in quicksand and then I’m up shortly after. That’s why I just drink wine or smoke some weed to go to sleep.”

My heart stops. As if she isn’t perfect enough to me. The fact that she smokes to get to sleep elevates her to goddess status.

“Yeah, same,” I clear my throat trying to keep my tone even.

She giggles. “Yeah,” she begins, mocking my tone, “I figured.”

Turning her back to face the box again, a chill hits me hard, thinking on me and Maddox’s texts before my phone died, when I was in her closet. How he was saying she has connections. Did he fucking know that she’s related to and works for Moretti? For a second, I consider the fact that Maddox could be behind this. But that feels too back-stabby even for him. Then again, Maddox’s moral compass died long ago, so with him anything is possible.

But I’m pulled from my thoughts by the sound of Raiden gasping. I look up to see a silver platter in her hand, glinting in the dim light, and there, dead center, is a severed finger. Which, considering the morbid theme of this place, honestly isn’t that shocking. Except whatisshocking is that it’s not justanyfinger.

“Isn’t that?” Raiden starts to ask, but I nod my head, cutting her off as I stare at the family crest adorning the gold ring.

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