Page 103 of One of Them

Dead silence consumed the room. It crawled up my spine, reminding me of when loud music once resonated through the same house. How quickly things had changed.

Maxim leaned against the wall to my right, his eyes distant. I couldn’t imagine what was going on inside his head. Though I longed to be near him, I knew the severity of the situation required space and time to process.

Nervously biting my nails, I stayed put, staring at the ceiling. The voice from the video forced me to relive that dreadful moment. I shook my head, wanting to tune the sound out, but the rational part of me insisted on listening.

Watch the faceless man and memorize every detail. Notice any clues that might help us figure out who he was.

I struggled to focus, my thoughts splintering between Enzo’s condition, Alisa’s whereabouts, the backlash this would cause, and the pain and worry it would bring.

Before I could organize my thoughts into words, a loud noise interrupted the silence. A large crystal vase flew across the room, shattering into tiny pieces on the floor. Glass bounced off the marble tiles, and Luka stood over the remnants of his creation, consumed by fury. The calm brother, no longer.

I blinked back the tears threatening to fall. What good would they do us or Alisa?

They thought they could mess with me. Mess with us.

If you hit me, I’ll return it a thousand times harder.

And this hit? It struck too close to home.

The worst-case scenario occurred. Ilya didn’t care about Alisa. He didn’t care enough to stick around. Yet somehow, the video found me. Someone wanted me to know.

A part of me died inside, knowing that everything I’d tried to prevent had happened. Despite my best efforts, bad things found us. It wasn’t about what we did, but what it made us. It showed how uncertain this damn world was. How fleeting safety felt.

I wouldn’t dwell on the failure. I would use my strength to my advantage.

We were racing against the clock. We had to find her before it was too late, before we lost her for good.

This was what I trained for. I thrived under pressure, grew stronger with each hit.

Whoever did this didn’t care about the List of Angels, meaning they weren’t part of it. There were only two options: The Irish or someone entirely new. As I’d predicted, new players had entered the game. Now, the stakes were higher than ever for our group. For our family.

It was time to call in the friends I’d made over the summer. Assemble and fight. Together, we’d bring her back and restore order to this world. Once and for all.

For their sister. Foroursister.

Cold hands moved up and down my bare torso, attaching something to my chest. It felt like a ghost was touching me, passing through or out of me. I didn’t know how this stuff worked.

Zia, my dear aunt, had warned me this would happen when I was a child. No wonder she protected the family farm from the dead.

What if I was now among them?

“Am I dead?” I voiced my concern, unsure if anyone would hear.

A weak attempt to swallow made me realize my tongue felt like sandpaper. Like I was back home, in the olive fields, the sun sucking the life right out of me.

“You were close, but no,” a familiar voice replied.

That’s exactly the kind of thing they’d say when you die, I thought, just to calm you down and make youaccept it.

No. This wasn’t happening.

I tried to move, assessing my state, but the attempt was unsuccessful. The bright light above blinded me, yet I struggled to close my eyes to protect them. It was then that I knew something had gone horribly wrong.

What sort of hell was this?

Determined to regain control of my body, I lifted my limbs, hoping to crush the lightbulb in my fist. But despite the strength I summoned, I came up empty.

Why did it feel like ants were crawling up my arm? Their movements tickled my skin, followed by a sharp pain that resonated through my body.

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