But here’s the catch: if they kill you, they get to go back home.
If they don’t, I’ll kill all four of them.
Prove me wrong by following the rules I’ve laid out for you, and I give you my word that your friends will remain safe.
Fail, and you’ll all be dead by the end of the day.
Good luck, Teagan. And don’t forget to Live, Laugh, and Murder your little heart out.
A. M. Pierce
P.S. And don’t trouble your pretty little head about Amber’s fate. It was painted in the stars the moment you and your friends set foot into my home. After all, how can there be a true Final Girl if there are two of you?
No, no, no.
Now I know why this all felt so familiar to me. It’s one of A. M. Pierce’s stories come to life.
Quinn shifts next to me as the three men standing behind me all stop breathing. I swear I can feel their undiluted hatred and need for survival permeating through the air around us, suffocating me. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, sensing that I’m now in danger.
I suddenly wish I were locked back in the cage again for my own protection.
Chapter seventeen
Seconds tick past in slow motion.
I turn on my bare heel and face four domineering men. Three of whom are staring daggers at me.
Travis is clenching both his fists, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He’s the one I’m the most scared of. Something is unnerving about the man, and that’s without adding in his massive size and unforgiving features. Travis told us he’s a photographer and was invited here to document Pierce’s life. Still, I’m starting to think he has a darker and more sinister portfolio than those perfectly curated author headshots he talked about at dinner. He looksexcitedabout the challenge. It’s almost as if he’s been waiting for an opportunity to hurt a woman physically.
Ahmed at least has the grace to look conflicted. He’s tall, but wiry. He doesn’t look like much of a fighter, and the way he’s standing makes me think that he might be the only one second-guessing the task laid before him. The anger and fear he had written on his features just moments ago have been replaced with confusion. I can’t let that go to waste. He’s a journalist, not a fighter.
My eyes land on David and his ridiculously cheery Hawaiian shirt. It seems inappropriate in this situation with its mock humor. Nothing about this is worth cheering about. He is looking back and forth between Travis, Ahmed, and me, clearly waiting to see who makes the firstmove—whatever that move will be. Like Ahmed, David looks uneasy about the prospect of murdering me. He doesn’t seem like the type of person who would kill to survive, even if he boasted about writing some cutthroat reviews during dinner.
I can’t be sure of anything anymore.
I force myself to look at Quinn and find that he isn’t looking at me like the other three are. Instead, he’s taken a small step towards me. It’s almost as if he’s twisting his body towards the other men. Just slightly. I want to believe he’s shifted to protect me, but I know it’s foolish to trust anything right now.
Not when all four of these men have been tasked with killing me.
The five of us are at a standstill, waiting with bated breath to see who will be brave enough to blink first.
Travis takes a heavy step towards me, his veins bulging menacingly on his overly muscled arms. “Don’t take this personally, Teagan,” he says with a chillingly calm voice. “But if it’s between you and the four of us, then you might as well lie down and give in to your death now.”
I instinctively take a step back, hitting the small table at the bottom of the steps. The vase rattles behind me, but doesn’t tip over. Good. This is precisely what I need. I wrap my hands around the thin neck of the vase, praying to whoever is listening that this stupid idea will work. I just need a moment of distraction so I can put some distance between myself and them.
Travis lunges toward me, and I slam it into the side of his head as hard as possible. The glass vase shatters against his temple, and he falls to his knees, clutching at the side of his bloody face. “You bitch,” he moans. “I’ll kill you for this!”
Ahmed and David both reach for Travis in a poor attempt to help him. Travis is enraged and throws them off of him before clutching his bleeding face again and sliding face-first onto the floor. David stumblesand trips over the uneven wooden floor, falling backwards. The back of his head hits the bars on the metal cages with a sickening crunch.
Everyone stops and stares at him as he falls to the ground with a pained moan.
Now. I need to go now.
I turn and race up the stairs behind me, praying the rest of them are too distracted with the chaos before anyone has a chance to notice me slip away.
The staircase leads to a small hallway with two closed doors, one on each side, and a small circular window between them. I can see the ocean waves and overcast sky, but nothing to indicate where I might be. We must be on the island, but we could be miles from Windermere.
“GET HER!” Travis screams from the floor below. I hear another loud noise. Something heavy hits the floor, then everything goes silent again. I wonder where Quinn is. I don’t remember seeing him after Travis lunged for me. Not that I’m stupid enough to trust him. Just because Quinn and I shared a moment last night doesn’t mean he won’t fight just as hard to make it out of this alive, same as the rest of us.
