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Gabe glances at me. “A beer from the Rusty Anchor.”
I let out a dry breath. “How very motivating.”
Angelo stares at his fishing spear in disgust. “You’re going to make us leave our guns out here, aren’t you?”
“Yep. Hand them over.”
Unease slithers through my veins as I press my Glock into his lackey’s palm. Hunting in the dark with nothing but a hammer feels very primal. VeryGabe.Usually, I’d be delighted he’s taking the game so seriously. This, plus the set-up he created in the cherry field for last month’s game, is an excellent change from the usual concrete dungeons he picks. But with my current…problems,it seems as though a lot could go wrong.
Gabe sweeps an eye over us and nods in approval. “Let’s begin.”
We close in on the hotel in silence. Gritty snowfall compacts underfoot as the wind whistles a haunting tune in my ears.
The closer we get, the eerier the hotel becomes. Fuck, it really issomething out of a horror film. The mist devours the tops of the fake turrets, and the graying paint has cracked into a thousand spider veins. The thought of clambering around its pitch-black rooms in a fucked-up game of cat and mouse pokes at the sadist in me.
Gabe grinds to a halt in front of the iron-clad door. “Wanna see something cool?” Before we can reply, he snaps off the walkie-talkie from his waistband and clears his throat. Brings it to his mouth and taunts, “Ready or not, here we come.”
I hear his voice everywhere but beside me. It seeps out of the mansion, loud yet muffled, and gets swept away by the wind.
Angelo runs a palm over his smirk, shaking his head. “You rigged up speakers? That’s fucking terrifying.”
Gabe gives me a knowing look, touched with dry humor. “I like the acoustics.”
The sizzle of a cigarette; the screams of a long-lost cousin. I shudder at the memory and turn back to the hotel.
Gabe’s drill works through the lock. Angelo mutters something about using a fucking key, but I can’t bring myself to laugh. Suddenly, something very unfunny is squeezing the nape of my neck, and the last time I had this feeling, I found myself staring down the barrel of a gun just a few moments later.
My grip tightens on the hammer. “Is he unarmed?”
The way Angelo sneers at me, you’d think I’d just confessed to pissing the bed. “Are you?” he snaps back, eyes darting down to the hammer.
With a groan, the door heaves open, revealing the void behind it. Gabe slams it shut behind us, and then the games begin.
The darkness is blinding.
“Come on, cat-killer,” Angelo murmurs to my left. The sound of his easy swagger tapers off into a connecting room.
A hand grips my shoulder. “Do me a solid, brother. If you find him, maim—don’t kill. Griffin could do with some company.”
I squint into the abyss, shaking out of Gabe’s clutches.Griffin’s still alive?Fuck me, he must be in ruins.
He skulks out of reach, and now I’m alone. Devoid of sight, my ears prickle with awareness.
Floorboards groan. Footsteps echo. The tease of a drill whirs above my head. With every room I enter, each blacker than the last, the unease tightens another notch around my neck.
To my right, something rustles. A shadow shifts within a shadow, and without thinking twice, I swing for it. Metal glints and the claw sinks into rotting plaster board.
After wrenching it out, my grip loosens on the hammer handle, and I drop my head to the wall.
Fuck. I’m losing my damn mind.
I don’t realize I said that aloud until a reply comes from the shadows.
Gruff. Familiar.So close.
“I can’t say I ever thought of you as sane in the first place,cugino.”
Dante has always worn the most awful aftershave. It’s the last thing that assaults my senses before sharpness sears my skin.
