Page 102 of One of Them

It echoed off the walls, and I hated this. Hated Ilya. Hated this guy. Hated them all. Above everything, I hated myself the most.

How did I let this happen?

Alisa fought the effects of whatever they pumped into her system, desperately trying to regain consciousness as the man dragged a ridiculously long knife across her pale skin, demonstrating what was to come, but she was too groggy to protect herself.

My throat tightened with resentment, my hand balling into a fist as I stood there, forced to watch.

“I suggest you come out of hiding.” With a finger pointed directly at the viewer, me, he spoke one last time. “You are next.”

The light shut off, swallowing the room in darkness, Alisa’s body hidden within. A brief text filled the screen instead:Location for her. You have three days.

The video ended, and for a split second, I stared at the black screen.

My phone barely hit the ground before I bolted out of the room, heading straight for Alisa’s bedroom down the hall. It didn’t take long before loud footsteps echoed behind me. Maxim was hot on my heels, wearing nothing but his underwear, his messy curls a sign of sleep, yet his gun was drawn and ready.

The door to her bedroom was wide open, the bed unmade and empty.

I flicked on the light switch and searched the room.

A muffled grunt from the closet reached us, alerting whoever was inside.

“Alisa?” I turned toward the sound.

Slowly, Maxim opened the closet door and I prayed she was okay. That it was all just a dream. A result of my colorful imagination combined with a sprinkle of insomnia.

Except it wasn’t.

There, in the corner, Enzo leaned against the rack of clothes. His eyes kept rolling back, thick streams of saliva dripping from his open mouth.

Upon seeing the state of his body, Maxim pulled Enzo from the closet and carefully laid him down on his sister’s bed. With a quick glance in my direction, he took off running, alerting the rest of the Galkins, includingMila, the doctor, whose help we desperately needed. Not even twenty-four hours later, we were back in this hell.

“Enzo, what happened?” I tried to make sense of the situation while we waited.

With slurred attempts, he repeated her name. “Alisa. Alisa.”

Sleep threatened to pull him under, but he fought it with everything he had, resisting the drug or poison in his system. With surprising strength, Enzo reached over and grabbed my arm. Unable to mutter more than a few words, he resorted to communicating through actions. His chocolate eyes, unfocused and sickly, pleaded with me.Fix this, they screamed.

His sweat-covered forehead wrinkled in worry, and I had nothing but empty reassurances to offer.

“It’s going to be okay.”

With a delicate touch, I reached over and stroked his cheek, putting on a strong front for all of us. But deep down, I didn’t believe a word I said.

It wasn’t going to be okay. Not until someone untangled the mess we were trapped in once more.

The house awoke. Loud footsteps echoed from all directions as familiar faces filled Alisa’s room, turning to me for answers. My eyes darted to Enzo’s body. Mila understood the urgency and took over with the patient.

I took a deep breath to steady my voice. “Is he going to be okay?” I begged for answers.

Andrei, always the wise one, shooed everyone out, allowing his wife to get to work. He even stayed behind to assist her. I wasn’t ready to leave Enzo alone, but we knew there wasn’t much we could do. We gathered in the sitting room, the bloodied couch a silent reminder of the darker side of yesterday.

Tension poisoned the air. No one spoke. When Andrei rejoined us, I knew what I had to do next, but I dreaded every second of it.

I could count all the turning points in life off the top of my head, and this one was about to be added to the list.

Relief flooded my mind as I remembered the recovery system I had in place. It was the miracle we desperately needed. A bot actively monitored every interaction, uploading a copy to a separate server. As expected, the message self-destructed. Under normal circumstances, that meant all traces vanished, as if they’d never existed. There goes your hope of finding the sender.

I played the video as soon as my phone connected to the TV.

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