I'm not insecure.
I'm not.
Just competitive.
Behind me, Atticus growls when the cowboy takes her hand to press a kiss to the back of it, but she yanks it back before his lips can connect to a chorus ofoooohsfrom the party.
That's my girl.
"I got it," one guy says to another next to me, showing him a small half-gone bottle of bubble-gum-flavored vodka.
They're a pair of copycats. One in Ghostface and the other in a skull mask.
"'Kay, quick before they notice."
One takes the vodka from the other and tucks it in his fake tac vest as they rush from the room.
I share a look with Atticus, but he's already moving to follow them.
I don't want to walk away from Ro, but we can't leave it.
A few more minutes won't kill me while we make sure these fuckers aren't about to spike some chick's booze, because pathetic as they seem, I don't think they're thebubble-gum vodkatype.
Eli's glowing mask cocks to the side as he follows us, and I realize he didn't hear. "Couple of assholes," I explain. "Give us a sec. Keep an eye on Ro."
He nods, staying behind.
I rush to catch up with Atty, who stalks our mimics through the kitchen to a basement door. I pull it open and see the plain wooden stairs going all the way down, but no sign of the dickheads we were following.
Atty locks the door behind us before we pad down on quiet feet. It never ceases to amaze me how deadly silent he can be despite his size.
It's too bad Atty won't let me kill them if they're doing what I think they're doing, it'd draw too much attention to this party—and to us—but he'll let me have some fun. The kind they won't remember when they wake up after I'm done force-feeding them the roofies they intended for someone else.
I put a finger to my mask when I hear them whispering in the space around a storage shelf, and Atticus comes to listen next to me.
"Hurry up, before they notice it's gone."
I peer through the tiny gaps in the packed shelves, watching the one in the Ghostface mask break two capsules over the rim of the bottle, letting the powder fall and dissolve into the alcohol.
My back heats, and I wish Atty hadn't taken my blade.
I give him a glare, but for these assholes, I won't need a weapon.
"Remember, Aurora's mine," the Ghostface says, and Atticus and I both snap our attention to the two dead men on the other side of this shelf.
"Yeah, I wanted Maisie, anyway."
Oh…
A shiver rolls down my back, and a shuddering breath passes through my lips.
They picked the wrong girl.
I don't need his permission anymore, but when Atticus nods, I'm glad to know we're on the same page. I think he's going to leave me to it, bow out, and head back to the party and Ro, but he stays.
I cock my head at him, gesturing to the soon-to-be corpses.
You want in?
