Page 76 of Hellbound

In the room, the eight competitors lay on tarps along the walls.

Four were being bagged.

Despite having the clue, her former teammates still succumbed to their mystery venoms: Vuk’s skin was blistered and raw, while Pavel was pallid with yellow froth on his lips.

A wave of nausea overtook her, and she retched into a can nearby.

Petra recoiled, then held out the cloth.

Ksenia wiped her mouth as she looked down at the ground, and she, too, lay on a tarp.

She glowered at Bohdan, standing in the corner, but had to admire his ruthless efficiency. She supposed, in his line of work, people often died.

If she succeeded, her line of work would also involve people dying.

“Forgetting something?” Bohdan called to her and casually shuffled some papers in his hands.

Realization slammed into her like a cold bucket of water.

The clue.

She clambered to her hands and knees only to meet the floor face-first, her cheek scraping the dirt. Every time she reached for solid ground, it tilted beneath her palms.

The pedestal swam in front of her—two of them, then three, sliding apart like reflections on disturbed water. She wavered, then used her right elbow and forearm to drag her body across the room.

A groan came from her right. Tivan was pulling out of his comatose state, purple hives mottling his skin from head to toe. His eyes were red with broken vessels.

No. Anyone but this asshole.

Gritting her teeth against her wavering vision, she shook her head before opening her eyes once more.

Her vision remained fractured, and Tivan’s form wavered. Three overlapping images of his bloodshot eyes looked more arachnid than humanoid.

His wet breathing was hot against her side, three sets of limbs spidered, his bloodied nails pulling himself forward.

She wished she could squash him like the bug he was, but she was just as exposed by the venom in her veins.

The images shifted back and forth, and Ksenia chose the leftmost pedestal, her hand desperately reaching for the stone lip and finding nothing.

Again, she reached.

Nothing.

Please. PLEASE.

The pedestal refused to hold still for her.

A frustrated scream battered her throat.

A wet, bile-filled laugh escaped Tivan. His three pairs of gleeful eyes were watching her as his hand reached up and closed around the elusive scrap of paper.

She swayed, drunk with rage. Her muscles were tense and shaking.

The sour smell of his sweat overwhelmed her as she crashed into his body, a jumble of limbs competing for the prize he possessed.

He growled, spittle flecking his lip as he protectively curled inward.

He looked at the clue.