River doesn’t respond, lowering his head to duck under a railing.
“River.” I tug on his hand. “What’s going on?”
He grinds to a halt and spins around to face me. “I think that might be the secret society.”
“Okay, but why are we hiding?” I keep my voice low.
“Because I’m worried if they spot you, they’ll do something to you.” His tone is bursting with anxiety.
“What the hell do you think they’ll do to me?” I loathe the fear slithering up my spine.
River slants to the side to get a good look at my face. The moment he does, his entire expression plummets. “Hey, everything’s going to be okay,” he assures me as he reduces the space between us.
I forcefully smash my lips together, willing myself to chill out. “Sorry, it’s just been a long damn night.”
Hesitantly, he reaches toward me and cups my face between his hands. “That’s understandable. And I shouldn’t have piled everything on you in one night.”
I shake my head, my heart thundering in my chest at the feel of his hands on my cheeks. “I’m glad you told me everything. I hate secrets.”
He gives a distracted nod, his thumb skimming along my cheekbone. “All right, I always tell you the truth.”
I nod unsteadily, my brain a bit foggy by the way he keeps glancing at my mouth.
I think he might kiss.
I think I might let him.
He leans in.
I start to shut my eyes.
“Let the games begin!” a male voice cuts through the darkness like glass across flesh.
River’s fingers on my cheeks stiffen, his gaze darting to bleachers. There’s a crack between the floors and the benches, and he lets go of me so he can inch closer and peek out at the field. I follow and look, too. And what I see is straight out of a nightmare.
The cloaked people are standing in a circle, holding torches, with one person in the center of them. When I look closer, I can tell it’s a guy wearing only his underwear, and he’s kneeling down with his hands tied behind his back.
“Pledge three, do you accept the fate of your future, as it be our choosing?” one of the cloaked guys circles the guy in the middle—pledge three, I guess.
“Y-yes,” the guy stammers.
The person circling him comes to a stop, sticks his hand into the pocket of his cloak, and then pulls out a knife.
I gasp but quickly slap my hand over my mouth as River tosses me a warning. Then he fumbles to get his phone out of his pocket, I think to call the police. But it’s too late. The guy raises the knife and brings it down on the guy. My heart stops but quickly recovers when I realize he’s merely cut the rope binding his wrists.
The guy stumbles forward and scampers away, the group parting to let him through.
“Pledge three has completed his first task!” the guy shouts as the pledge runs across the grass in our direction, tripping the entire way.
River is holding his phone but hasn’t called anyone as he watched the pledge run. We both track him, rotating as he sprints past the bleachers and out of the gate. He keeps running until he disappears out of sight.
River and I both say nothing, but we do trade a look. Then River shoves his phone into his pocket, threads his fingers through mine, and pulls me closer to him.
“Now that that’s settled, it’s now time for the next sacrifice!” the same guy that cut the ropes declares. “Maddison Averly, we’re coming for you.”
At first, I am horrified that maybe they’re speaking directly to me, but then they gather together in a cluster and march back into the trees, taking their madness with them.
I exhale a deafening breath. “Oh my God, what the hell is going on? What’re they going to do to me?” My mind is movinga million miles a minute, to the point where I’m worried I might pass out.
