Page 172 of Dance With A Devil
“Wait!”
He paused.
“What’s your name?”
He glanced over his shoulder. “Wyck.”
And he disappeared like smoke.
Oh, Wyck…
“What is it?” Gaia’s voice pulled me back.
“I saw Wyck. Now I see something else.”
“What do you see?”
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, “Like a stained wooden box… locked, but not with a key.”
“That’s it.” Mama’s voice breaks through the haze. “That’s where your memories are, baby. All of them. Once you open it, you don’t come back the same.”
Gaia leans closer. “Open it, Athens. You can do it. You’re strong enough.”
Fred adds, “You’ve made it this far. Don’t stop now.”
“Come on, scaredy cat,” Ryan smirks. “Open the fucking box.”
Fred smacks her. “Jesus, Ryan, encouragement, not psychological warfare.”
But I’m already moving.
The box is right there. Glowing. Beckoning.
I reach for it.
The second my fingers close around it, everything changes.
A surge of electricity punches through me like I’m standing in a storm with my ribs open. My lungs convulse. My mouth opens in a silent scream as a tidal wave of memories shatters every dam in my head.
Wyck and I, younger, raw, dangerous. Friends. Then lovers.
Bash. His fists. His belt. His fucking lies.
Blood on my hands. Tears in my throat. The Devils watching, waiting.
It crashes in,all of it.
It’s too much.
I can’t breathe.
“Oh my God!”
Darkness swallows me whole.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Wyck
