Page 98 of Play The Game

Ash grunts and his eyes open, an arm winding around my waist before his eyes even open. He blinks up at me and frowns when he sees his phone at my ear. I cut him a look and, thankfully, he keeps his mouth shut.

“Right. I’m outside the room and— FUCK!”

The booming sound of a door being kicked in startles Ash and he sits up, his arm keeping me stable on top of him.

“What the fuck?” he mouths at me, and I swallow roughly.

“Harley,” I croak, my eyes welling up, and Ash can’t contain the vicious curses that spill out of his mouth.

He sets me down on the bed and starts pulling his clothes on, yelling for Blaise and Avery. I can’t move. I can’t do anything until I know Harley is alive and safe. Whatever the fuck has happened, I’m frozen until I know he’s okay.

But the second I know he is, someone is going to fucking bleed tonight.

Through Harley’s phone, I can hear screaming and sobbing. I recognize it immediately and look up to find the others, dressed and ready, waiting for me to tell them what the fuck is going on.

“Annabelle fucking Summers. I don’t know what’s happened, but Illi’s there and she’s sobbing,” I croak, and Avery collapses on the bed next to me. Her eyes are wide and when she tucks her arm into mine, I can feel the tremble running through her.

“Call 911, you dumb fucking slut!” Illi roars, and Harley’s phone makes a scratching noise before the line goes dead.

Holy fucking shit.

Avery’s shoulders shake and Ash yanks her up off the bed as Blaise pulls me to stand. I protest, I don’t want to hang up, but he maneuvers me into a pair of yoga pants. Then he hoists me into his arms and carries me like I weigh nothing.

“We’re going to him. Tell me once you know where the ambulance is taking him.”

I nod and he sets me back onto my feet in the elevator. Avery is taking deep, shuddering breaths, and Ash is scowling, his hands clenching.

It takes us over an hour to find out which hospital Harley is taken to and to get there, even though Blaise drives like a fucking maniac the entire way. I can’t think, or breathe, or function. My mind just keeps playing Illi’s voice over and over again, the urgency when he screamed for Annabelle to call 911. The dread in my gut has grown, spread down through my limbs until I walk into the hospital lobby on numb legs. Only Blaise’s strong arm banded around my waist keeps me upright.

Avery snarls at the reception staff until they tell us Harley is in the emergency room. My brain sort of shuts off after that, like a rage blackout except I can see Avery nodding and taking in all the information for me while I freak the fuck out. Then we’re directed to the waiting room.

Illi is already there, vomit and blood covering his clothes.

I almost pass out at the sight of him.

Then he turns to me with such fucking sorrow, for a second I want to punch him. Maybe it’s that spark of fire but he nods at me. “This way, kid. I’ve got what you need in here.”

I stupidly think he’s taking me to see Harley, but no. He directs me over to a supply cupboard and jiggles the door until the lock pops. Inside, Annabelle goddamn Summers is hogtied. All trussed up like a turkey for our Thanksgiving, and what good luck because I’m going to fucking carve her up.

Illi motions me in and then I block everything out, every sound, sight, and smell while I stare down the pathetic whore who’s tried to take Harley from me. If he dies… no. I can’t even think about it. He’s going to live. He has to.

I step forward and yank the gag out of her mouth, watching with grim satisfaction as she tries to swallow and winces.

“What the fuck did you do to him?” There’s nothing human left in my voice.

She whimpers pathetically.

“Tell me,” I say, and she sneers at me, all the fake simpering vanishing like the manipulative skank she is.

Eclipse Starbright Anderson ceases to exist. I don’t know who takes her place, because the Wolf has nothing on the deadly rage that takes over me. I stay completely aware as I pin Annabelle to the wall by her throat. I watch with a detached sort of fascination when her eyes light up with terror and, as my hands tighten around her neck, her face darkens until she looks almost purple.

My fingers only squeeze harder.

I don’t notice the argument happening behind me until a large, colorful hand wraps around my wrist and a broken voice croons softly in my ear, “Let go, Star.”

I shake my head. I’ll never fucking let her go again.

She dies today.