He frowns, then turns over his shoulder. “What the fuck? Is that blood?”
No sooner has the word left his mouth than Lily sits up on the couch and trains her black eyes on us. She pulls the knife from her abdomen and then stabs Gwen in the chest before I can even take another breath. It all happens so fast.
She stabs and stabs and stabs, sinking the gleaming blade to the hilt before pulling it back out to repeat the process. Then she shoves Gwen away and looks at us while licking the blood off her fingers. She’s covered in it.
I swallow, stomach twisting, as I look down at Gwen’s body on the floor. Her empty eyes stare up at the roof as blood slowly pools around her.
“She’s dead… What the fuck?” Aron breathes beside me, stepping back when the sea of red reaches his shoes. “What the actual fuck?”
Lily laughs, sending chills skating down my spine. I’ve never heard a more frightening, sinister sound. “Now, let’s play, boys.” She stands up from the couch and swipes her blood-soaked hair away from her stained cheeks, the knife gleaming in her hand asshe taps her smiling lips. “Don’t look so frightened. I’ll be gentle with you.”
“What the fuck?” Aron whispers again, backing away, ready to bolt.
“We can’t outrun it,” I bite out. “We have to stay together.”
“Is that so?” Lily’s cruel smile is slow to form. “But who can you trust?” She throws the knife to Aron, who catches it mid-air just as she collapses to the couch and grips her wounded waist, a sharp cry rippling from her lips.
Aron chuckles low and deep, inspecting the bloodied blade before his black eyes slide in my direction. “Tell me something. Do you like pain? I quite enjoy watching it contort a human’s face.”
And then, he stabs me.
THIRTY-SEVEN
CAMRYN
“Dominic?”My eyelids are heavy. I’m disoriented. “Dom?” I try to push up on my elbows, but my head is pounding too much. I press my palm to my temple just as my eyes open. It’s so dark that I can’t even see my hand.
I become aware of crumbling soil beneath my fingers and scurry back, releasing a startled scream when my hands connect with something cold and hard. I can’t gain my bearings, and when I try to sit up, my head knocks against a solid surface. I reach up to touch it, sliding my fingers over the uneven finish. It feels like wood. It must be. It has the same kind of grooves. I push against it, but it refuses to budge. I try again, but all it does is to tire me out. I still haven’t recovered fully.
I try to think back.
What happened? How did I end up here? Whereverhereis?
I woke up, and there was someone by my bed. It’s filled with nothingness after that, almost like I blacked out, or my memories were wiped.
I’m starting to feel claustrophobic. I can’t sit up. I can’t see. The air is damp and smells of dirt. I’m sure that’s what it is. It clogs underneath my nails when I drag my fingers through it.
Rolling over onto my stomach, I crawl forward blindly. There must be a way out.
I jerk back when I feel something cold and hard. It’s round, almost smooth, except for the crumbling sensation of dirt beneath my fingers. I trail my hand lower, unable to stop the rising panic. I jerk my hand back, certain I just touched bones of some kind.
Collapsing onto my back, nausea churns my stomach, and I wait for the wave to pass. I’m in a hoodie. Dominic’s hoodie. I can faintly smell his leather and citrus scent.
I bury my nose in the fabric, pretending for a fragile second that I’m safe in his arms. I would do anything to feel him hold me. My hands reach into the front pocket as I try to steady my trembling chin. I don’t want to cry. Tears won’t help me, but trust them to fall when I need to stay strong the most.
My thoughts come to a grinding halt when I discover something in my pocket. It’s small and made of metal. I pull it out, flicking the lid open with my thumb. It’s Dominic’s Zippo.
I quickly light it, seeing the orange flame dance in the darkness. I’ve never been happier to see fire. Is this how the first humans felt when they first sparked a flame?
I move it around the space, trying to see beyond the darkness. I’m under the floor. Above me are wooden floorboards.
I turn to the side and push up onto my elbow. But then my eyes widen, and a scream lodges in my throat. Bones. Human skeletons. I scramble back in fear, extinguishing the flame and losing the lighter in the process.
“Shit…” I drag my fingers through the soil in my hunt for the Zippo, two seconds away from a panic attack, my heart hammering. I almost cry tears of joy when I finally find it.
A flame flares to life with a strike of my thumb, and light floods the small space. I barely notice my filthy, bare legs or thedirt beneath my nails as I scan the skeletons. They’re lined up in a neat row, with me in the middle, almost like this space was reserved. The thought has what feels like spiders crawling up my spine.
I count five bodies in total. One was a small child, half in size to the other skeletons. But what makes me pause is the axe, carefully tossed onto the skeleton beside me.
