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Of course there’s two of them.
There were always two of them.
“Were you really going to stab me?” I ask, leaning my head back so I can look at the man leaning against the tree. “In the barn?”
He doesn’t answer. He just looks at me, still flipping the knife.
“Areyou?” I challenge, looking at the one on top of me with much more bravery in my voice than what I feel. My heart still thrums against my ribs, and it’s so hard not to struggle to get him off of me once again. I’m still afraid of him. Ofthem.But not quite so heart-poundingly terrified.
“Do you think I am?” he asks. “Do you think I haven’t killed people?” He lifts a hand to comb through his hair, pushing his hood back in the process.
“I think if I told your mother you chased me through the woods, took my phone, and pinned me on the cold ground, she’d killyou.”
“He didn’t chase you,” the other man corrects from where he leans against the tree above us. “He’s just the one who caught you.I’mthe one that pushed you to that ditch and made sure you stayed there for him.”
“Wow, gold star,” I tell him, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Let me go home and I’ll make you one out of aluminum foil to glue on that stupid mask.” He doesn’t reply. Instead, he pushes away from the tree, sheathing the knife a second before he falls to his knees just above my pinned arms. My breath catches, and I wonder if I’ve gone too far with the one of them I don’t know well at all as his bloodstained mask looms closer and closer to my face, then dips towards my ear.
“You didn’t think my mask was so stupid when you were in that bathroom begging us tofuck you,” Rory purrs. “Or have you forgotten so soon?”
I swallow hard, looking at my situation through something other than the lens of indignant fear that thrums through my veins. I really am in a bad spot. Especially if Rory decides he doesn’t like me enough to put up with me.
But I’m not about to give them the name of someone to kill.
“It was you at the park, wasn’t it?” I ask, realizing suddenly that Rory is much more likely to have been the one there. I would’ve recognized Phoenix’s voice, I think, and Rory is so much more…
Sadistic.
The auburn-haired killer tilts his head to the side and I’m sure he’s grinned behind the mask. It’s certainly good enough for me, even if he doesn’t answer outright.
“You said you were cold, right?” he goes on, dismissing my question with one of his own, and sits up to push Phoenix’s hand off of my wrists. “So, so cold. Right, darling?”
Suddenly, I don’t want to be warm anymore. But he doesn’t give me a chance to tell him I’m fine, because in seconds he has me sitting up. Phoenix pushes back so he’s trapping my legs instead of holding me down. Rory settles me in the v of his thighs, yanking my hands tight in one of his before I can do anything, and rips the mask off with the other.
It feels final, somehow. And the feeling doubles down when Phoenix removes his more carefully and lays it to the side. I can barely see his face in the darkness. Hell, I can barely seeeitherof them in the darkness, but I feel it when Rory’s mouth grazes the side of my throat.
“Rory…” Phoenix’s growl of warning is soft, but his boyfriend doesn’t stop what he’s doing. His hand does let go of my wrists, though, so he can dig both sets of fingers into my hoodie and grip my ribs hard enough I worry they’ll break as he holds me against him.
“What?” Rory asks, voice not nearly as soft or as careful. “She’s cold, Phoenix. I’m helping. Aren’t you always telling me I should be more helpful? And who better to practice on than precious, sweet Bailey?”
A shiver trails up my spine as he says my name, and I take a deep breath that catches in my throat as his teeth sink into my skin, but he pulls away to whisper his next words in my ear loudly enough for Phoenix to hear as well.
“I guess the question now is how long are you going to keep us here before you tell us who we get to kill for you?”
Chapter18
“I’m not keeping you here,” I murmur into the darkness. “I’mnot doing anything—”I break off with a hiss when his teeth sink into the juncture of my neck and shoulder, and I can feel him sucking a mark into existence on my skin to prove that he was there.
My hands reach up to do something—whether that’s to stop him or motivate him to keep going, I’m better off not knowing—but Phoenix catches them, fumbling in the darkness until he’s holding my wrists again, his body still pinning my legs to the ground.
“Rory,” he warns, his voice sounding forced and more than a little strange. “What are you doing?”
“What you’ve wanted to do since you left her in this shitty town,” Rory replies hotly. “Besides, she clearly doesn’t want me to stop.” He kisses up my jaw, nipping at my lip to draw a whimper from me.
“How do you know?” I ask, making the mistake of turning into him, our mouths brushing when I form the words.
But he doesn’t pull away. He stays there, so I feel every shape of every word when he says, “Because if you wanted me to stop, you’d tell Phoenix a name. Don’t play dumb. You know who you want to see dead in this town just as much as he does. If you don’t like this, then give us one. We’ll kill them, anyway. You’re barely contributing at all.”
Yeah, but there’s a big difference between not contributing andbarelycontributing. Like, jail time difference. I open my mouth to present my argument, knowing it won’t convince him anyway, until Phoenix moves, his shape only barely visible as he shifts to press one knee between my thighs, shoving them wide enough that he can sit between them with my knees on either side of his waist.
