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The door slammed shut and a lock clicked into place.
As we stared at one another, trying to catch our breath and process what had just happened, I slowly realized another person was missing.
Charon had never made it back to us.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Sixty minutes.
That’s all the time we had before we needed to move on. By the look of the map, we were practically standing in front of the next place we had to go.
Maze of Mayhem.
It was the last part of the map before we reached where a checkered flag had appeared: Diablos Manor.
I scrubbed at my grime-covered face, trying not to let emotions get the best of me. For the first time since we’d gotten here, I was afraid. Not for myself but for the others. There were only eight of us left. How did we decide who got to live and who would die?
I couldn’t lose Mel or Grace, but I also refused to offer up Ciaran or his friends as sacrificial lambs. Him for obvious reasons, them because they’d started to grow on me.
As if I conjured him by thought, Ciaran stepped up beside me, slipping an arm around my waist. He’d gone with Kyrous and Maverick immediately after we realized Charon was gone. I didn’t have words of comfort to offer him, and not because I didn’t give a fuck; I just knew there wasn’t anything to say that would make it better or okay.
He wasn’t showing any emotional pain or anger, but I didn’t ever expect him to. That wasn’t him, at all.
Still, I knew inside he had to be hurting. If the tables were turned, I’d be a hot mess, quite honestly.
“We’re almost there,” he said quietly.
I leaned my head on his chest, listening to his heart.
“Are we?”
“Don’t do that. You’re so close to making it to…”
I waited for him to finish, but he simply left the sentence hanging.
“I don’t need false hopes, Cici. I need to know why this is happening. I need some explanation as to what caused someone to do something this elaborate…I—”
“Belair,” he suddenly said, cutting me off.
I straightened and turned into him, confused. “What is that? Does it mean something?” I glanced at the map in case I’d overlooked that somewhere.
“It’s my last name.”
Time didn’t exist here, yet it still came to a standstill with that abrupt as hell revelation. And he’d said it so… casually. I started to laugh, pulling away from him. Of course, that would be who he was related to. Because my life wasn’t already a circus or anything.
When he said we shouldn’t have ended up in bed together, that had been the understatement of the fucking century. He and I shouldn’t have been breathing the same air. Yet, he fucked me anyway.
I wanted to know why, but I couldn’t deal with this right now.
I didn’t want to.
I wasn’t going to bother trying.
“I need to get cleaned up,” I said calmly, turning away from him.
Weaving around the small sitting area, I headed for the bathroom, deciding to check on the girls on my way.
This place wasn’t like the Sanctuaries—the luxurious interior was about three steps up. Shame I couldn’t concentrate enough to give a flying fuck about any of it.
I sought out Mel and Selena first, having not seen either since they’d gone off to do what I was now. This place wasn’t very big, so the task wasn’t too difficult.
They were sitting on the floor near a mini fridge, backs against the wall, heads leaned on Maverick’s shoulders.
I wanted to rush over and spill what I’d just discovered, but logic had me hesitating. If Ciaran was a Belair, what were his friends? I gnawed my lower lip, unsure how to handle this. I didn’t want to be the reason for a divide or added tension. I wasn’t the only person here with problems or mental battles to face down.
At the last second, I darted towards the bathroom. Gracelyn and Kyrous were still shut away behind the door adjacent to it.
Grace being the sweetest of the three of us, I’m sure she was in there offering him the comfort none of the rest of us could.
I didn’t want to bother them either, mainly because I couldn’t look at his face without thinking of Charon.
I already had to contend with my mind presenting all the possible things that could have happened to him. Alone.
He’d been all alone.
And then there was Margo. I didn’t know her well at all, but she’d been one of the few individuals we were stuck with whom I wanted to live.
Moving into the bathroom, I shut the door and promptly flattened myself against it, pulling in a lungful of air in place of screaming like a homicidal maniac.
That’s where I was at right now.
I wanted whoever was responsible for this dead—in the most gruesome, slow, and torturous manner there was.
