I look at the men as they wrestle each other when another masked man comes from around the corner. I move quickly, grabbing my bat as the smoke goes off again and the beat picks up. Aiming straight for his head, and swing.
I bash him straight into the wooden door frame, his head twisting at an unnatural angle. A strong hand grabs my ankle, pulling me off my feet. When I look down, Roman’s eyes gleam with hate—they look like they are glowing.
Kai has him in a chokehold, but it’s clearly only managing to piss him off. “I’m gonna kill you,” he chokes out as I kick his hand off my ankle, casting one final look at Kai. I bite back the urge to puke as I leave my heart behind.
Chapter Fifteen
Xena
The fog in my mind starts to thin—slow and reluctant. Red and orange lights flash in slow motion, like the lines on a heart rate monitor right before a flatline. “Smoke Away My Brain,” by A$AP Rocky hums through the speaker; the soft, ethereal rap lyrics make me feel like I’m floating in and out of focus, like smoke slipping under a locked door.
It’s like I’m drifting—like I’m halfway between heaven and hell. The ache starts almost instantly. My body recognizes that something is missing. A slow, dull throb in my gut.
A familiar need that pulses under my skin like a second heartbeat. A reminder.
I need more.
More numbness. More forgetfulness. More of whatever he gave me to survive this.
A shadow paces. I can’t see him yet, but I feel him—looming and watching like a god waiting for worship. I shift slowly,testing my limbs. They’re sluggish, like I’m moving through syrup.
But the fog is lifting.
And he’s here.
Roman.
Even through the haze of the drugs and the vast smoke and the sea of costumes, there’s no denying the shiver that crawls up my spine. The chill of his presence resonates within my soul.
My tormentor.
He hasn’t noticed that my mind is waking up. I just need the rest of my body to catch up. The mask feels heavy on my face, with the smell of plastic filtering into my lungs and invading them. My pulse spikes from a slow beating rhythm to one that matches the thrill I get when I know Roman is near.
My hand tightens into a fist as I stare at Steve’s brother. I don’t remember his name, but those fucking eyes? I’d recognize them anywhere. Same electric stare as Vik. I try to swallow my spit, but my throat is dry and in need of water. My throat feels sore, and the more I try to moisten it, the more aggravated I get. My body sways a little bit to the side, and the ache from being used intensifies, alerting my brain that I’m awake.
Awake enough to feel.
And right now, all I feel is fucking rage.
He doesn’t see it, not yet. He’s too busy playing God, looking down at the crowd as though he could pinpoint death itself. But it won’t be Roman who ends him. No.
That honor would be mine.
I watch as he continues to pace in place while looking down and admiring his kingdom of depravity. A sly smile stretches across my face. He thinks I’m still floating. Still drugged and docile. But he’s wrong. I’m alert—and I don’t know if that’s a mistake.
But I don’t care.
All I know is, I have one chance, and I gotta take it.
My jaw twitches from my nerves, and the weight of my stare must have alerted him because he turns.
Smiling.
“Little doll,” he purrs, stepping closer. I sway a little bit to the side to sell the illusion. “Wanna play?”
No, I don’t want to fuckin play.
I want to kill you.
