My shivering becomes so uncontrollable my teeth chatter. I want to ask how badly he’s hurt, but I’m struggling to form words.
“Bad?” Shane asks.
“No,” Erik says, taking the knife and tossing it into Tavi’s tote.
The unmasking is fast. The downed guys have black around their eyes but are still recognizable. When I see Brayden among the five, it’s as though I’ve been stabbed in the heart with that knife.
The Viking stares down at Brayden. The other fallen frat brothers are awake and crawling away into the dark corridor, but when Brayden tries to move, Erik grabs him by the throat.
“She was going to lose us the charter,” Brayden whines in a rasp. “She already had her revenge that night. She ruined Wilson’s left hand. Nothing even happened to those girls that night, and she’s going to wreck the whole chapter? I didn’t want to do this, but I didn’t have a choice. No choice.”
“Shane,” Erik says in a voice that’s so cold I shudder. “Block the sight line.”
I don’t understand what he’s saying until Shane moves so that he’s between Erik and Tavi and me. Then I hear muffled voices and a crack. There’s a pause and more low talk. A pause. The crunching sound that follows turns me rigid.
No more voices. Just gurgling… a death rattle.
I can’t breathe. Staggering back, I whirl away and heave. Nothing comes up. Sweat drenches me, so I’m clammy and even colder.
Tavi gasps softly and backpedals farther from the guys. I’m so filled with dread and sickness I can’t move.
“Let’s go,” the Viking says, stalking toward us.
None of my thoughts are coherent, save one. He just murdered Brayden.
When he takes my arm, I move by muscle memory alone. My mind can’t function, and time jumps. We’re walking. We’re passing cars.
“Erik, there’s her car,” Tavi says.
My gaze follows hers. The Mercedes driver’s door gapes open, the engine running. I shuffle to a stop, thinking maybe I should go over. But in my mind, one of the masked guys is in the back seat waiting for me.
“One of them had it. Could be a trick.” My soft voice sounds distant to my ears.
I don’t think they heard me until Shane says, “Let me check it out.”
He jogs to my car while the three of us wait. Blood drips from a scrape on Erik’s cheek down onto the shoulder of his coat. He doesn’t seem to notice it. I glance at my empty hands. My purse and phone were in my car when it was taken.
“All clear,” Shane calls as he emerges. “Octavia, can you drive Arya’s car to Declan’s? Erik and I will be on either side of you. We’ll caravan there.”
Tavi nods and hurries to him.
“I could go…” I murmur.
Erik’s grip tightens. “No, you’re with me.”
I don’t argue. My brain is melting down. “I don’t know what Bray was talking about. I didn’t do anything—the only one I told about that night was you.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Erik says.
We reach his SUV, and he opens the passenger door.
Biting down on my lower lip, I look back toward where we were. “Brayden’s dead?”
“No,” the Viking says in a detached tone as he lifts me into the passenger seat.
Not yet maybe… but soon.
Erik circles the truck and climbs in. That last crack, was it a fist? Or him stomping down on Brayden’s face?
