Page 134 of Inside the Wicked

“Still the stupidest.”

He huffs a barely-there laugh. “I’ll take it.”

We make it out the back exit with our balls on razors.

There are a couple of back rooms, and we head into one. When I close the door and flip on the light, that’s when the lid on Jeremy’s panic flies right off.

“Oh man, I’m a goner! Ground beef. Just leave me, save yourself.” The last champagne flute shatters to the ground when he lets go of the platter.

“Jeremy, listen to me. Get yourself the fuck together.”

“Y-yes, boss.”

Rix comes in with Dean, dragging a patron through with a bunch of red napkins stuffed in his mouth. “Best I could do with limited resources,” Rix pants, struggling with the man. Dean gives one calculated punch to his temple and knocks the guy right out.

“All right, let me see what we’re dealing with,” Dean says, fixing his attention on Jeremy and pulling out a kit.

“Be careful,” Jeremy quivers.

Dean casts him a deadpan look. “We had bets on how you’d get yourself killed. Most said a bullet, some said drowning, Jackson said you’d get yourself blown up.”

“Nice to know you’ve all been thinking of me,” Jeremy says, casting his sight to the sky, but I think God is up there with popcorn, gloating in our hellish situation.

“You two should get out of here. No point in us all going out if this thing blows,” Dean says to Rix and me.

“No fucking way,” Rix says. “My stupid brother, my stupid problem.”

“Love you too, big bro. Hey, how are Frodo and Sam? Do they miss me?”

“I don’t think?—”

“Just say they miss me, man. I need something.”

“They’re absolutely beside themselves, ready to face Mordor again to find you.”

Jeremy chuckles breathily.

Rix turns to me. “You go. Ana needs you, and we all need her.”

Dean has cut away Jeremy’s shirt, and seeing the packages strapped around his lean body hits the severity home tenfold. I almost can’t think straight.

I’m absolutely torn. These two idiots are my brothers as well. Dean is like family too. But Ana is my life. Nothing means anything without her anymore.

“What’s it looking like, Dean?” I ask.

“It’s advanced. Can’t be certain this is the only trigger.” He reaches for his kit, plucking out a small screwdriver and working meticulously on taking off the control plate.

“My thumb is seriously cramping,” Jeremy says.

“Rix, there’s a blue disk in the kit. I need you to work on getting his thumb off that thing.”

Rix swears, scrambling to find it.

I’m impressed by Dean’s calm demeanor. He’s even helping me feel like he has this thing under control.

He says when Rix finds the disk, “Good. The tape and scissors too. You’re going to have to very, very carefully cut one side of the tape securing his thumb, slide the disk under, and wait for my instruction, but don’t fucking let go.”

“Shit. Fuck. Shit. Balls,” Rix rambles, but he’s quick to act.

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