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“NO!”
I lurch and choke on my breath as the gun snaps a hard metallic sound and dry fires. Eloise screams.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Massimo lets out a wild whooping sound, gleefully looking between me and Eloise like a child who’s just watched a birthday clown pull a fucking quarter out of someone’s ear.
“Fuck yeah!” he shrieks, looking even more manic than usual. “That’s a rush! Holy shit, how have I never played this before!”
He lets out another whoop before he exhales.
“Okay, ladies next?”
He starts to turn toward Eloise.
“I’ll go,” I blurt, ripping his attention from her. She snaps her head to me with a haunted, horrified look. “I’m next around the circle anyway.”
I want to tell her it’s going to be okay. I want to tell her I can save us.
But I can’t.
Because even if I manage to use the revolver to kill Massimo, his two guards will come in, guns blazing, and all of us will die.
The only way out is to play Massimo’s game.
And fucking pray for a miracle.
Massimo cocks a brow before he flips the gun around and hands it to me.
“Well, counselor…your turn.”
36
ELOISE
When life turns surreal, waking moments become a dream-state. As if nothing you’re experiencing is real, because it can’t be.
I can’t be in one of Massimo’s torture rooms deep in a basement who-knows-where.
Alistair can’t be slowly bleeding out from the bullet wound in his side, which is frankly a lot worse than I told him.
Gabriel can’t be lying on the floor across from me looking like he’s been beaten to within an inch of his life.
And above all else, we can’t all be in a circle playing Russian fucking Roulette with Massimo.
Yet, here we are.
Reality has left the building.
I watch numbly as Alistair takes the gun from Massimo. When Alistair’s fingers close around it, I almost want to scream to Alistair to just shoot the psychopath already.
But we all know what happens if he does. Even if Alistair manages to kill the kingpin, Massimo’s guards come charging in, and the rest of us die quick deaths here in this hole.
Slowly, Alistair glances at me, his fingers wrapped tight around the stock of the revolver.
“Your turn, counselor,” Massimo grins.
He’s got that same look in his eye I’ve seen him get when one of his girls pleads with him to stop, or slow down, and he just starts to go even harder, because inflicting suffering is what excites him.
