Page 18 of Choices

“Is he dead?” Claire’s short, airy, panicked breath fills my ears.

This night can’t end like this.

Without hearing them arrive, Callan is at my side, pulling my hands away from the kid’s chest. “Cutter, look at me.”

My head is ringing. The room spins like a merry-go-round. Voices swim together. Fabric pushes against my head, and I’m on my feet, moving across the room. Something forces weight down on my shoulder, and I obey until I sit. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Callan’s face fills my vision. He places two digits in my eyeline.

“Two,” I breathe, my lungs feeling heavy. I reach up and take over, holding whatever is against my head. “It was an accident. The kid was relentless,” I puff out, shaking my head. A searing pain burns across my skull.

“We know, we caught the show on the camera. This is the worst-case scenario.” Callan moves away, running a hand across the back of his neck.

“Lock the door, Claire.” That voice is our Pres.

I’ve never thought much about dying. The reaper can come for you at any given time, especially in this life, but I’m young and a member of a club feared by most. Death seemed far off until his moment.

They’re going to have to hand me over to the Carnells.

Blood for blood.

It may not be enough. They’ll want Claire too. Or maybe a higher price. My eyes drag over Callan, pacing long strides back and forth. I’d rather take them all out on my own before letting Callan pay my debts with his life and turn this into a war.Kitty.Fuck—what about Kitty? If they find out she was the one who brought him here…I reach for the knife strapped at my ankle and get to my feet before I can even process the plan.

“Cutter, sit the fuck down before you fall. You’re pissing blood everywhere,” Pres snaps.

“What do we do?” Callan asks, staring over at Nicolas, the blood around his head seeping into the cracks of the wood floor.

“No one outside this room knows what’s happened,” Jericho states. “And no one will.”

My heart thunders, adrenaline surging through my system, giving me false energy.

Callan’s gaze flicks to Claire. She’s hugging herself, her torso bare. Taking the fabric from my head, I frown. It’s the pink shirt she was wearing.

“What were you doing in here alone with him?” Jericho asks, startling her.

Her chest heaves. Her lips wobble as she speaks. “I went to help Maggie, but he accosted me in the hallway and asked if there was somewhere he could relax and maybe play poker.” She shrugs. “I thought this place was the best option. He made me stay and play pool with him.”

“How the hell did it escalate to this?” There’s an accusatory tone in his delivery that pales her skin.

“He was grabbing at me, and I was trying to put space between us and knocked the table. He said I was trying to cheat and went crazy, punched me in the face.” She becomes frantic, her hands gesturing wildly. “God knows what would have happened if Cutter hadn’t walked in.”

“This shit doesn’t matter. What matters now is clean up,” Callan interrupts, eyeballing the door.

Pres grasps Claire’s chin, tilting her face to his, smudging the blood under her nose with the pad of his thumb. “I want you to listen to me, okay?” He smiles and nods, hypnotizing her into calming down. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, he cups her cheek, and she leans into it, desperate for the comfort. “I need you to go to my office. Don’t stop for anyone, okay?”

“Okay.” She bobs her head.

“When you get there, I want to you lock the door and turn off the camera for this room.”

“Right.” She swipes at her eyes.

“Which room?” he asks.

“The game room,” she confirms.

“Right. There’s a good girl. When I get done here, I’m going to come to my office and clean you up, okay? You’ll stay here with me for a few days.”

“You can trust me, Jericho.” Her eyes dart to me. “I promise, you can trust me.” Fear blazes in her blue eyes. She knows this is a big fucking problem and she’s a witness.

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