Page 67 of Beautiful Liar

“Come on, man. It’s just a game. If we don’t fight each other, we all can make it to the castle.” I moved in a circle away from him and closer to Micah who didn’t look well. At all. “I don’t even know you.”

“Yeah, well, I know Kieran. That fucker is going to pay.”

At least it wasn’t about Maddox this time. The thought left my mind when he charged, violence in his eyes. His lips were drawn back, revealing teeth, and he snarled like some sort of wild animal. The two-handed grip he had on the bat made him clumsy and exposed him. I lifted the bokken the way Kieran trained us. It was a safe version of a Katana, long and slightly curved. The whole moment felt surreal. Zarek swung. I moved away from it, already swinging toward the weak spots. Shins, wrists, and ears. They were the safe zones that resulted in more pain without a killing blow. The head and neck could kill someone. I didn’t want to kill Zarek. Even if he had meant to kill Micah. I landed a solid blow on his wrist. He squealed and dropped the bat. Then I lifted the bokken and swung right into his ear. He stumbled. I caught him again at the back of his knees, forcing him to fall face first in the mud. Without hesitating, I landed a knee to his back and slid the bokken under his chin, lifting it up against his throat. “Call it, motherfucker, or I will cut your airway until you knock out. I’ve never done that before and might kill you on accident.Youdecide.

He tapped the ground.

Thank fuck. Not that I believed him. I dropped the bokken and grabbed his wrists behind him. I pulled a zip tie out of my vest pocket and secured his wrists. I did the same with hisankles.

“You’re going to fucking pay for this.”

“Yeah. Whatever, man,” I said. “It’s just a fuckinggame.” Why couldn’t these fuckers get that through their head?

“You have no idea what Kieran’s done, how long the list is of the people who want him dead.”

I acted as if that didn’t bother me while I wanted to pound the fucker until he lost his white teeth. “And Micah, asshole? What the fuck did he ever do to you?”

“He chose the wrong side.”

I did hit him. Again and again. And what do you know. He didn’t open his eyes.

Fucking asshole!

I shoved the blindfold into his mouth anyway.

The adrenaline rushing through me a few minutes ago started to subside and my shoulder flared in pain. My hands were bruised and hurting. I ignored the pain, testing out my range of motion. Nothing broken. It could’ve been worse. A lot worse.

I dropped on my knees beside an unconscious Micah. Fuck. If he was dead… I bit off my gloves and pressed my naked fingers against his neck, just under his jaw feeling for a pulse. Please don’t be dead. Please. I didn’t breathe until I felt the soft pulse against my fingertips.

But even that relief was short lived. I had to get him out of there before more came, and by the sound of chaos around us, we had reached thefuck, you’re deadzone. I needed him awake. I slapped him and shook him until his eyes opened. They were bloodshot. Busted blood vessels wasn’t a good thing. “Sorry, buddy, we have to move,” I managed to croak out.

I hauled Micah to his feet, throwing an arm over my shoulder, and fisting the back of his waistband.

He didn’t complain, but he didn’t make it easy either. Wewalked a few yards before I felt him sag. “Tomás,” he mumbled. “I can’t.”

He became deadweight in my arms, and I had to lower him to the ground. Sweat dripped down my back. My stomach felt knotted, all my insides were practically writhing for me to run. Just run. Anywhere. I could reach Canada if I ran fast enough.

“I’m not leaving you,” I whispered, keeping ears on the voices looming closer. I wasn’t living through another death on my hands. After Jack and Amir, I wouldn’t survive it. I missed my brother’s voice in my head telling me shit to either rile me up or make me sink. I needed something right now. Anything that would give me a clue on how to save Micah from another beatdown. His face had gone pale, his pupils slightly blown, blood vessels in his eyes popped. And he’d vomited twice.

Think, Tomás. Think.I’d memorized the map. The manor hung off a fucking cliff and we weren’t equipped to go rock climbing. That hadn’t been an option, though Wren had suggested it. Twice. There was another way. It meant retreating where we’d come from on the down slope. It meant following the natural curve of the earth until we came upon a rocky aquifer. It meant going where Kieran had specifically said not to go through.

“The catacombs,” I whispered.

Micah’s eyes widened. “I thought they said to never go down.”

“There’s no one else here. Either they already made it inside or got trapped by something else.” I didn’t want to think about the something else. “We’re going to be caught in a few seconds if we stay here.”

Micah nodded. “Okay. The catacombs.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kieran

The sun had already descended giving rise to an ominous array of shadows along the rotted walls inside the castle. The floorboards were rotted wood over a concrete layer. Tapestries had been hung on the walls. The fabric undulated with whatever the fuck had burrowed inside the weaving. Insects. Fucking bugs. The thought made my skin crawl. One thing I hated about the beautiful Earth, was the fucking bugs. Maybe Tomás was right, and I was a germophobe.

The place had been banned in the seventies. It should’ve been demolished but the council of four didn’t want to disturb the graveyard underground. Let their future heirs deal with it. They’d be long dead before anyone trampled on the catacombs.

The hall above the foyer had been turned into a wannabe gothic club complete with a light show, DJ, and bar with only top shelf drinks for whoever should pass through those front doors needing a drink after running for their lives. Literally.

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