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Vince didn’t speak. He just watched Zander steadily because he already knew…
Zander licked his lips, tasting them again, relishing the burn from where Vince had nipped him, then said, “Our time is up.”
It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, inviting death in, feeling his fetid breath on the back of your neck, and only then realizing you didn’t want to die after all.
“Our time is up.”
Those four words were a fist to the solar plexus, a bullet to the gut. Vince didn’t want to hear it. But he did. He understood. And he stared at Zander, at the darkness gathering in the killer’s eyes, thankful all that rage and intent weren’t directed at him.
Scotty’s grip on Vince’s hand was just as crushing as the reality creeping into the safety of their small space.
“What do we do?” Scotty asked. He looked to Zander for that answer and Vince wasn’t even mad about it. He didn’t have the answers; he was just as helpless as Scotty. Just as scared out of his mind.
Zander’s gaze went from Scotty to Vince and lingered. Vince couldn’t read him, couldn’t figure out what Zander was thinking. There was a retreat, a distancing happening in front of his eyes, and he couldn’t do shit about it. He knew about being powerless but this entire situation was something else entirely.
It fucked him up.
“Zander.”
As if Vince calling his name spurred him into action, Zander spun away and dropped on all fours, fingers scrambling for something on the bare floor. Vince watched him with furrowed brows, eyes bugging out of his head when Zander lifted part of the floor up.
A trapdoor.
Vince’s mouth hung open. Next to him, Scotty gasped.
Zander straightened, facing them with blank features as he pointed. “Get in.”
Vince blinked at him. “What? How did?—”
Zander huffed. “Not the time for questions. Take Scotty and get in. Now!” he snapped. When Vince didn’t budge, Zander strode over, grasping him under the arms and bringing him to his feet.
Vince gripped his shoulders. “You’ve had a trapdoor in here this whole time?” he asked.
“I always have an escape route, no matter where I am.” Zander guided him to the opening in the floor, just wide enough for one person to enter at a time.
Vince peered down. He made out a few stairs, but it all descended into inky blackness.
“Scotty, you go first,” Zander said. “We don’t have time for hesitation.”
“You’re coming with us, right?” Scotty asked. His skin was pale, eyes wide and red-rimmed. When Zander didn’t answer him, Scotty turned terrified eyes to Vince.
Fear snaked its way down Vince’s spine. “Zander.” He touched his shoulder. “You’re coming with us, right?”
Zander’s mouth twisted. “No.”
“B-but we can all go together,” Scotty stammered. “We hide and then we run away.”
Zander touched Scotty, a fleeting caress on his jaw. “The problem with running is that there’s always someone chasing.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve got unfinished business. It was always going to end this way.”
“Nothing’s ending,” Vince barked. “Nothing is ending.” But the truth was, he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. This was a whole new kind of helplessness. “Zander, please. Come with us.”
Zander’s lips curved and he leaned forward, brushing his lips to Vince’s. “Take care of Scotty.” Then he turned to Scotty, whose eyes were wet, his body trembling. Zander kissed him too. “Take care of Vince,” he murmured to Scotty, then he nudged him forward. “Go. Now.”
Panic flooded Scotty’s eyes but he did what Zander ordered, taking one, then two steps and descending into the darkness.
“Zander.” Vince grabbed him, both hands fisted in the other man’s t-shirt. “Don’t do this,” he begged. “If you have an escape plan then use it. Come with us.”
Zander embraced him, both hands around Vince, tight constricting bands that Vince didn’t mind one bit. “I have to deal with him,” Zander murmured in his ear. “I need answers to my questions, but I also have to get him off your back.”
