I stared at it harder, swallowing the sudden lump of emotion in my throat.
“When I was doing recon,” Danika said, “I ran into one of your cousins. Little shit slapped my ass in a club. So I took his hand. Then his head. Thought you’d like one part of him back.” She hummed. “Think his name was Milo or something. No idea.”
I didn’t answer. She wanted a reaction, but I didn’t have one ready. Not for this. That cousin had been missing for three months. I hadn’t been close to him—he’d always been the kind who picked fights he couldn’t finish, made backhanded comments about everyone, and laughed like he expected the world to owe him something. He was shitty, sure. But was he torture-and-die level shitty? I didn’t think so. And now I’d never know for sure.
Now I knew why he had been missing.
Danika twirled her pen in her fingers before she chucked it down. “Atlas, you’re up. What plants are native to California? And I’d take all your seconds to think of your reply. Because poor pretty boy over there is gonna get zapped if you can’t answer.”
She grinned.
Then Atlas did the same as he got her question right.
“Lucky guess.” She muttered as she marked the board. “Ooh, it’s prize time.”
He had ten points now too. So she went to the side table and picked out another box from the pile. This one was smaller than the rest. Square-shaped and taped at the seams. She brought it over, set it down on his podium, and tapped the top twice with her palm before pulling her hand back.
“You don’t get to open it yet.”
He looked at her. “Why?”
She stomped back to the whiteboard, grabbing her pen again as she said, “Because I said so, bitch.”
She reset the timer. The beep started the next round. Over and over and over again. Random question after random question. Each one designed to make Atlas uncomfortable, and me confused.
He wasn’t reacting to her. So what was she waiting for? What was she hoping to achieve here?
Her phone rang before she could speak again. She reached into her pocket, checked the screen, and then answered. “Hold that thought, lover boys.”
She didn’t leave the room, just stood there listening. Her face didn’t change. After a few seconds, she ended the call and slid the phone away.
“Time to hit pause on this little game. I’ve got something to deal with.” She nodded toward the stairs. “There’s a room up there. Go wait. Make yourselves comfortable while I sort my shit out. Then we can continue the final round of Slaughterhouse and see which one of you gets to paint these walls with your blood.”
Atlas moved first, eagerly heading out of the lounge and the crazy bitch’s vicinity. I followed him up the stairs, checking back once to see that she was following me.
Having her at my back made me all sorts of uncomfortable. But seeing as I didn’t have it in me to shove a woman down a flight of stairs, or get stabbed in the throat by my shock collar, I played nice.
At the top, she paused in front of one of the six thick wooden doors, pulling a key from her pocket.
“In here,” she said, pushing the door open.
The room was small and barebones. A queen-sized bed with sterile white sheets sat against one wall, and a single window,heavily curtained, faced the other. An attached bathroom was visible through a cracked door, the beige tiles inside dull and uninviting. Once more, there wasn’t a sign of life in this house. I doubted anyone had slept in here before, let alone anything more fun.
“You’ve got maybe two hours to get a little nap in and clean up whilst I deal with business,” Danika said, her tone flat. “Don’t make me regret being lenient. And don’t worry about getting your collars wet. I made sure the pet store gave me the waterproof ones. I’d hate to zap my doggies when I didn’t mean to.”
She shot us a pointed look before stepping back, the door clicking shut behind her. The sound of the lock sliding into place made my stomach drop.
For a moment, Atlas and I stood in silence, surveying the room.
“I’ll check the window,” he said.
Nodding, I crouched by the bed, running my hands along the floorboards, testing for any give.Nothing. I shifted to the built-in closet next, sliding the door open to reveal a single folded blanket and a few empty hangers.
“Anything?” he asked without looking up.
“Not unless we’re planning to smother her with a blanket,” I replied, shoving the closet door shut with more force than necessary. “Though it looks flammable, so that’s one thing.” I thought of the items hidden on me from the gas station.
He grunted, his fingers still working at the edges of the window frame. “Bathroom?”
