Page 85 of Wicked Deceit
My heart sinks, beating a thousand beats per minute when I pull the lit-up screen away from my face. A million worrying thoughts pour through my mind, freezing my entire body like ice has taken hold of my joints, and I’m a statue.
"But what?" His muffled voice asks through the phone, bringing me out of my stunned state.
A heaviness weighs on my tongue as he continues to bark at me to resume my words. But I hold the phone away from my face and stare at the mocking words summoning me to what’s sure to be Hell.
Alpha: Delta. Panty Licker. Beta. Come to the Maze House immediately.
Delta: Yes, Alpha
Panty licker: Yes, Alpha
"Kid!" He shouts through a rough rasp.
I shake my head, bring the phone back to my ear and close my eyes. I’ve been summoned to places before. ‘Check on this person, Beta.’ ‘Be at this party, Beta.’ ‘Follow them around, Beta, and report back to us.’ But I’ve never been asked to come to a place with the others like this. Sure, I was told to meet them in the hall to slime Kaycee with that disgusting as fuck goo. But this? This is at the mother fucking Maze House.
"I just got fucking summoned,” I breathe through quivering lips. Every word I speak comes out in a tremble, forcing me to clear my throat to remove it. If what the website says is true, then my gut feeling from before is coming to fucking fruition.
There are a million moments in my life I’ve lived to regret. But this? Leaving Beniot and Kaycee alone at the Maze House when I thought the campus was fucking dead, so I could look into what my computer found will always be. This will be number one on the list for as long as I live. And if they have Kaycee and Benoit, I’ll fight tooth and fucking nail to get them to safety. No matter the fucking cost. Put a bullet in my goddamn chest, drown me in a fucking pool, but don’t take two people who mean more to me than the breath in my fucking lungs.
My stomach knots and twists, and I grip my hair with my free hand. Tears burn my eyes and drip down my cheek, escaping the tight hold I have on them. Deep buried emotions leak from tight lips, and I heave another soul-cleansing breath to bring myself back to the here and now. I have to keep my shit together if I’m going to save her. And hell, they might not have her yet. Maybe they’re surrounding the place, and I can choke them all out before they fucking touch her or Beniot. Get your shit together, Cunningham. You have fucking people to save and people to fucking murder.
"Listen to me," the agent on the phone says in a gruff voice, reeling me back in again. "You have to go."
The world fucking freezes at his words and spins all at once. My body stiffens at his request, feeling like a hand plunging in and squeezing my heart until pain throbs through my chest.
"Go?" I question with hesitation. “How can I fucking go?” I shout, slamming my fist into the desk. "How the fuck…."
"This is a dire situation. We've lost contact with our agent on the inside. We can't track their location, kid. Go to their summons, and be our inside agent,” he barks out with urgency in his voice and something like fear tinging his words. If he’s fucking scared, then how can I remain fucking calm?
"You…want me to fucking go and fucking…." I trail off and close my eyes.
"And report back. But now you need to patch us through to the website. If we can get in, we can track where you're going to be and stop this before it starts. Trust in us, kid."
I hit a few keys, open my computer to theirs, and say a prayer to whoever is listening above that this all works out without my girl getting fucking hurt.
"I don't trust any-fucking-body," I hiss, straightening up. "And if you fuck me over, I'll fuck you over. I don't give a flying dick who you are or what agency you're involved with," I shout into the phone, flinging it across the room before he can answer my threats.
My fingers pull at the ends of my hair, and I pace around my room, pulling at the roots. Throwing my head back, I roar at the ceiling with all my might, letting every ounce of frustration that's about to come my way out.
Kneeling, I pick up my cracked phone and shove it into my jeans pocket, praying they can track my phone wherever I go. With one last look around the room, I try to fucking center my anger into a ball in my chest, and then I bolt out the door and out into the brightly lit hallway. I run like my ass is on fire, and the gates of hell have opened up, because they fucking have. Jesus Christ, this is a goddamn nightmare pushing down on me from all angles. I have psychos expecting me to be a fucking psycho, and I have Veritas expecting me to step up and pretend to be the psycho to get them the information they need. Fuck!
My shirt clings to my back as a panicked sweat sets in, and my blood boils like hot lava. It isn’t until I push out of the doors of my apartment building that I find relief in the cool winter air brushing past me. Panic sets in, spinning my heart out of control. My mind blazes with scenario after scenario, getting worse and worse with every thought. By the time I make it to the maze, nothing can show on my face. Absolutely no emotions can be present inside me when I jump into this situation headfirst.
But I fucking swear to all things holy, and my mother's grave, if they harmed a hair on her body, I will murder them all. That’s a goddamn promise.
I pause just outside my apartment building and hide in the shadows to collect myself, wiping every ounce of feelings off my face into a blank slate. I'm made of fucking stone, and I won't fucking crack.
Breathe deep, dumbass. Deep fucking breaths. Wipe the emotions from your fucking face and hide them in a fucking box from now until you know what the hell is going on. They'll kill her if you show them how much she means to you. Instantly. Then they’ll make you watch or kill you, too. They won’t play around. There’s no pass with them. I won’t collect two hundred fucking dollars. She’ll die because I love her, and I should have fucking told her the damn truth.
I should have told her. A million fucking times. Over and over. I should never have held my tongue. Fuck my mom for giving me that hang-up, and fuck my dad for being a piece of shit, and fuck me for not protecting the only woman I’ve ever loved.
This must be a test. Something is wrong—so fucking wrong. My fingers desperately grab at my black t-shirt over the left side of my chest. A burning sensation tightens, like taut rubber bands constricting my air. If I had to guess, Kaycee and Benoit are in deep shit.
I should have camped out at that damn house. No. I should have duct-taped my damn girlfriend, forced her into my car, and put her up in an apartment somewhere far the fuck from here. Everyone had been too quiet after the charity event. The only shining light was my girl, the hot tub, and finally claiming every part of her; that was a plus, too, even if those other idiots were there. They say you can't choose your blood relatives, and that's a fucking fact, but you can build your own damn family, and that's what they are. Those fucknuts are my brothers, and I'll be damned if any of them die. Not on my watch.
Stomping my way across campus toward the maze, I scowl and hide my worry behind my heavy mask of disdain. Silence greets me in the eerie labyrinth when I step foot through its mouth. Usually, moans and groans greet my ears, but tonight the whole place is a ghost town—only the damn wind swishing through the creaking branches reaches my ears. I walk through the maze with my head held high like I've done many times before and charge toward the house. A scowl etches across my lips, and every damn emotion I let out sucks back into the back of my mind, where I lock it away like the trash it is. It thrashes in its cage, begging to rear its ugly head, but I hold it back and slap on my best cruel expression. I will not fucking break before their eyes.
I squint as I reach the front of the house, stopping in my tracks. Every light in the house is on, illuminating the front yard, and light bounces off the swaying bushes. The darkness eats at me the more I stare. I want to charge in there like a damn bull and see what the fuck they think they're doing. But I don't. I curl my fists and heave a breath, and that’s when I smell gasoline. The pungent scent hits my nostrils, and a gag bubbles in my throat from how strong it floats in the air.
