“Breathe,” Dom reminds me yet again, his voice soft.
“Something doesn’t feel right.” I barely move my mouth, not wanting anyone to overhear me.
“Do you think my bastard of a father knows?” He moves even closer to me, as if he’s prepared to dive over me if it means saving my life.
“No.” I’m almost positive that Harvey isn’t aware of what The Divine One did when she put me up for sale. He would’ve tried to kidnap me months ago. But Doyle knew—knows. Who did he tell? How did he find out?
And why did he snap that he never should’ve helped us?
A seed of panic takes root, and my neck prickles. I don’t necessarily believe that I’m in danger, but there’s a voice in my head telling me that something very, very bad is about to happen.
“Something isn’t right,” I repeat, sucking in a scorching breath.
We continue to follow the flow of members through the ornate entryway and into a large room. I try my damnedest to ignore the residual panic coursing beneath my skin.
Maybe I’m just being paranoid.
Maybe I’m too high-strung.
Maybe—
“Oh my god,” Dom breathes, his feet stilling.
Doyle sucks in a sharp breath from the other side of me.
The audience parts slightly, allowing me to see the newest art exhibit in this house of horrors.
It’s a man and woman, though they’ve been mutilated so completely that it’s difficult to tell for sure. Their bodies havebeen skinned and meshed together, their arms sewed around each other’s waists in an intimate embrace, a patchwork of pink and bright red. But their heads…
Their heads are familiar, their mouths open in abject horror, even though their eyes have been plucked from their skulls, leaving behind empty sockets.
Dana and Dustin—Dom’s stepmom and half brother.
Harvey claps his hand down on Doyle’s shoulder. “I told you there would be consequences.” His dark baritone voice cuts through my flesh, sharper than any blade is capable of. “I don’t know what you did to upset The Divine One, but just be lucky you’re not up there as well.”
8
ZANE
Iam obsessed withKPop Demon Hunters.
I know, I know. You’re probably wondering where I’m going with this.
I would like to say that Ellie was the one who convinced me to watch it, but that would be a lie. She wasn’t even home the first time I watched it (though she was around the seventh time).
But the songs? Perfecto. It’s amazing how many variations of the wordsblood,bodies, andmurderI can add to the melodies.
I sing to one now as I cleanly slice off the head of our latest victim. I don’t remember the man’s name, though I’m sure the others know it. From what I gathered, Headless here was scheduled to work at POP’s party. He was already dressed in his uniform—a nondescript gray cloak and a white mask—when we arrived.
Anyone who can willingly involve themselves in POP’s twisted games deserves to be slaughtered. Painfully. Musically.
I shimmy my ass as I toss the decapitated head behind me.
“Bloody hell, Zane!” Beckett snaps, no doubt having been in the head’s path.
I bite down on my smirk.
The plan is simple. Ryker and I will…ahem…dispose of two employees, each at their respective houses, and take their identities for the night. Beckett is in charge of hiding/burying/burning the bodies. His choice. And Landon? The grumbling ass will remain at the hotel as “central command.” I don’t really know what that means, but it makes me envision secret agents rolling across the floor and scaling buildings, so it sounds cool as fuck.
