Page 35 of Drop His Mask

Nightingale cackled. “You just figured that out? Oh sweet Julian, you never were the smartest. Thankfully for you, this year’s games will not be relying on intelligence.”

The Prisoner’s eyes flashed to the woman before him. “Leave me. Let me rot and die here.”

I trust Griffin more than her. Maybe he wasn’t lying. Maybe his brotheriscoming.

Nightingale bared her teeth as she stepped forward. When she was just a foot away, she flashed the syringe in her free hand.

“Julian. Julian. Julian. That isn’t part of the plan. You may not be the King or the Queen, but you are still an important card, nonetheless. For every deck, a Joker is needed.”

She swung the gun to him, his attention following the trail.

It was the distraction she needed to push the syringe into him.

She shifted back, her frozen eyes stabbing into him. “Oh, you poor sweet fool. I hope you make it through this, because this is only thebeginning.”

Fuck.

The Prisoner’s nerves buzzed for just a moment before they went numb. He slumped back as his vision darkened and blurred. He tried to move, to speak, but nothing cooperated with him.

I’m scared.

He didn’t want to admit it, not even to himself. But he was–he was terrified. Not only for himself, but what this meant for Sparrow.

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this. I truly do.”

Confusion pierced The Prisoner’s mind. The words hadn’t come from the Nightingale he knew, they weren’t spoken with malice or anger.

No, they were wistful,soft. As if somewhere deep inside, a piece of Anadil might still be left.

The thought didn’t have a chance to solidify before unconsciousness swallowed The Prisoner whole.

Chapter 19

Tit For Tat

Raven

Present Day

Groaning, I sat up, a dull throbbing pulsating in my temple. A stinging on my throat where Quinn had dug the shears in.

Shortly after the last round, after Maverick had met my eyes, the world had turned dark. The familiar feeling of being pulled under. And now I was back in ourprison. In my own bed. Alone.

Gathering my wits, I realized the medical equipment was gone now, too. Shifting out of the bed, I stumbled to the ground unsteadily.

My body was weak again, forced into an endless cycle of healing only to be gravely injured. Over and over.

But why am I even alive at all?

Wobbling to my feet, I used the bed for stability.

Oh god. Quinn.

Hopelessness attempted to plunge its way into my gut.

He was one of the last remaining bright parts of my childhood. Someone here knew that. Knew more about me than anyone ought to.

It has to be my sister. My sister has to be my fucking Sponsor. She is here pulling the strings.

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