I shrug. “Just in case the die part of the game comes first.”
“Who are you?” Goldie mutters, walking past me to get a weapon too. “Buffy?”
“No, a woman scorned,” I breathe out, mentally going through the places that are real on set.
Noah’s thinking what I’m thinking because he looks at me, holding a cleaver. “Where to first?”
But I don’t get to answer because the deep boom of electricity getting shut down starts at the front of the camp.
Light after light is slammed off, as the sound gathers speed. Doof ... doof ... doof ... doof. Doof. Doof. Doof.
It all goes off until we’re in pitch black, and that damn voice whispers ...
“Hey, Evie, are you afraid of the dark?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Him
“Wakey, wakey.”
No matter how many times I’ve slapped his face, he’s still groggy. But I suppose that’s the downside of a hammer to the head.
I let out a deep breath as I stare at him, scrunching my nose up because this room smells dank and like mold.
“Wake up,” I say sharper, slapping where it’s already red.
Moaning accompanies his eyes finally fluttering open. Attaboy. His head flops as I reach out next to me and pick up the silver duct tape.
I’m waiting for the realization to hit. For him to understand what’s about to happen before I rip a long strip. Letting the sound punctuate the fear in his eyes.
“What the f—” he breathes out before I press it to his face quickly, smiling down as he struggles to keep saying something ... anything.
“Huh? . . . I can’t hear you. Oh wait . . .”
The moment I know it’s stuck to his skin, I tear it off.
He grunts, turning his face sideways, but I’m already prepared with another piece, forcing it onto his face harder this time.
“Now shh. Don’t interrupt me. I have so much to tell you.”
His eyes water as he strains against the chair he’s tied to. A loud bang rings out because he all but lifts it off the floor, growling at me.
I take a step back, impressed.
“Wow ... I bet you’re a beast in bed. I mean, I kinda know ... I watched. She does this thing right before ...”
Another loud bang. “Oof, so feisty. But you’re going to need to calm down and let me explain what’s going to happen before you hurt yourself.”
He’s staring at me with so much rage as I drag a similar chair across the concrete floor, letting it scrape the ground the whole way, before flipping it around to straddle it.
My arms fold along the rusty top, and I rest my chin on them.
“Okay ... Where should I start? How about at the part where you die?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Evie
