Page 104 of Jig's Last Dance

Idly, I clench my aching knee and mumble, “You’re a sick little bitch, you know? Do you enjoy hurting people who can’t fight back? Fucking coward.”

It’s achingly quiet but for my shaky breaths, and I tip my head to the sky before saying quietly, “Dad?”

A breeze blows through, shaking the trees, and all the hair on my nape stands on end. Searching the darkness, I wipe away the tears on my cheeks and close my eyes. It’s too much—all of it.

After shivering on the front porch for I don’t know how long, I step back into the cabin. I hope they made it to the car, but being here after everything that’s gone down makes me queasy.

Was it John who shot at us? I’ve never felt as alone as I do now, fumbling around for a light switch with my heart in my stomach.

Finally, I find what I’m looking for and flip the switch, only to wince when black dots hover over my vision. Shit, that’s bright.

When the sensation clears, I glance around with a sigh, taking in the walls covered in pure fucking evil. Is this a warning or the machinations of a psychopath?

Either way, the pictures mock me, and with a renewed sense of urgency, I enter the kitchen and search the drawers. I can’t stay here forever, and a flashlight would be really fucking nice.

The first yields mundane cooking utensils, and I laugh hysterically before dropping it and its contents to the floor. I’m on the second drawer, muttering to myself, when Bastion says behind me, “What are you doing?”

“Shit,” I shriek, grabbing my chest and swinging toward him. “You fucking scared me.”

His eye twitches, but otherwise, he ignores my comment. “What are you doing?”

Glancing behind him, I say, “Looking for a flashlight. Where’s Jig? I thought you left?”

“They did. C’mon,” Bastion says. Gladly, I drop the drawer to the floor and follow, my knees weak.

Thank fuck I’m not alone.

We exit out the back and Bastion creeps through the trees. With no light to see by, the moon blotted by clouds, I strain to follow with my ears as my guide. He’s so fucking big that I suppose noise is inevitable as he clomps through the brush, but I still glance around warily. And when something shuffles nearby, I speed up, bumping into his back with an oof.

He doesn’t comment, just keeps going. My feet hurt. My heart is dancing in my chest, and I want to stop so fucking badly when eventually I spy the road ahead of us. But there’s no car in sight, and instead of walking along the road, he follows the tree line beside it.

I exhale slowly, relieved to know they didn’t wait around, but I’m so fucking tired. At least Jig’s gonna get the help he needs. Thank fuck.

Bastion is quiet, so I follow his lead. My leg aches like crazy, but I keep going because the alternative is staying here, and that’s a hard no for me.

Is John stalking us now? One of the other crazy fuckers?

What about the man in the trees? Who killed him? John? If that guy could so easily be brought down, how the fuck are we going to beat whoever did it?

A wing and a fucking prayer? Shit.

“Why did Iris send you to her house?”

The question breaks into my thoughts and is so out of place in the silence that I jump. Bastion side-eyes me, and I shrug. “I don’t know.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and then he stops and turns to face me, his dark eyes probing. I glance around uneasily, recognizing that we’re completely alone. Bastion could kill me and leave my body, and no one would be the wiser.

“Here’s the problem with your story,” he says, his dark eyes boring into mine. “Iris doesn’t do anything unless she gets something out of it.”

“So? Maybe she did?” I say, but it comes out in the form of a question, and I mentally wince.

Bastion raises a thick brow. With a sigh, I take the lead and murmur, “She asked me to grab something for her.”

“What?” he says, and I roll my eyes to the sky.

“Look, she did me a solid. I returned the favor. And frankly, if anyone needs a fucking friend, it’s her. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think it mattered.”

“Everything matters when it comes to her. Nothing she does is for any reason but to play her sick game. And if you let her, you’re stupid.”

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