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This time his mask was off, showing me the bloodied mess I’d made of his face.
He wiped the crimson trickling from his nose with the back of his hand, sneering like the liquid itself offended him.
I bared my teeth at him.
“Whatgives?” I choked out. “We’re supposed to be a fucking team—”
“We were,” Dylan said, his voice thick with irritation as he shook his head. He pressed a few buttons on his tracker, turning the lit screen toward me.
It was a single message.
They’re lying. Find the white masked rabbit, and I’ll give you 10K each.
The message alone was enough to make panic rise, my heart beating faster. But what made my blood run cold was the name attached to it.
Architect Wolff.
Father?
Why would he be interfering? He shouldn’t be. The Architects are supposed to be neutral third parties. It was a major infraction for him to try and push the game in one direction or another. Much less his for his son. He should’venever—
Images flooded my memory. The wrecked car. Vic sobbing hysterically as she tried to push through the police to get to the man being loaded into the ambulance. The matching marks on my father’s car, parked in the garage like it’d always had a crushed-in front bumper and a massive scrape down the side.
Dylan wasn’t here to save our family legacy.
He was here to cut the loose end.
Fuck.
Why? Hadn’t he taken enough? Was killing her really necessary?
Hadn’t taking everything from her satisfied whatever sick vendetta he had against an eighteen-year-old girl?
I’d been painfully mulling over options to get her money because of what he did. Pushed my body to the brink and back just to make some measly pocket change for her.
What else was there left to do?
But I knew it. I knew that the last thing for him to do was send someone after her in an attempt to finally cover his tracks.
If I tell Dylan who he’s really going after, will he pause or…
No, I couldn't.
He’d go after her even harder. They hadn’t exactly left each other on good terms.
“Father saw you,” he sang, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “I wonder what you did that would make him react like this?”
I jerked against their hold again.
“Father shouldn’t interfere,” I spat. “Just like you should go about and find your own Ghost before the game ends. Talk about embarrassment? You’ve been standing back the entire timewatchingas everyone else gets their kills except you. It’s pathetic, almost as pathetic as coming in worse than third on your second go.”
He twisted his wrist, causing the screen to disappear. His eyes narrowed as he reached out to yank the mask off my face.
“Have you ever thought I waslookingfor someone?” he asked, fitting the glowing purple plastic over his busted nose.
Dread hit me like a truck, his plan coming together with stunning clarity.
He looked like me. In the darkness with the blonde hair and mask…Dylan looked just fucking like me.
