I even forgot about the men standing all around us. The men who deserved to die slow, painful deaths for what they’d done to him. I curled up against him as if to transmit my warmth to him.
If they wanted to hit him, now they’d have to hit me too.
I laid down over Neil, showing those monsters my back. I was trying toprotect him, to shield him, even though my body was far too small to cover his.
His eyes were still closed and puffy, his equally swollen lips slightly parted.
“Neil…I’m right here, Neil. Tell me you’re okay.” My voice shook with fear that he wasn’t going to open his eyes, making me spiral. If he didn’t come back to me, I… I…
My fear, which prevented me from even forming clear thoughts, fell away as those golden eyes opened to rest dazedly on my face. I smiled in relief and pressed my forehead to his. “Nothing’s going to happen to you; I swear on my life. You have to stay with me,” I told him, whispering so softly that only he and I could hear. Neil tried to move, but he immediately winced in pain and groaned.
“Selene…” he muttered under his breath. “Quit fucking around…get back.” His breathing was labored; he struggled just to string together a few words. I had no intention of leaving him alone to face all of this, to absorb a punishment he didn’t deserve, or to be destroyed by these psychopaths and their madness. But one of the men grabbed me by the forearm and lifted my unwilling body and tossed me aside like a rag doll. I crumpled to the ground right on top of a pair of women’s shoes. I looked up at her and immediately recoiled in fear. How had I failed to notice that there was a woman?
She had blond hair and a red mask.
“Get away from him! What do you want from us? What do you want?” I burst out.
They had completely surrounded us. There was no escape route.
There were so many of them; they were cruel and much stronger than us, especially when we were still nursing our wounds from the car wreck.
My eyes locked on Player and the men flanking him.
Another man moved to stand behind Neil, watching his every move. The others appeared to be simply awaiting instructions.
“That was just a taste, Neil.” Player advanced on him slowly. Then he gave Neil’s arm the slightest nudge with the toe of his shoe. Neil tried again to get up on his feet, but he couldn’t do it. He struggled into a kneeling position instead and glared up at Player. His coat was open and bedraggled, andthere was blood all over his white sweater. Player snapped his fingers, and, as one, everyone around us brought their hands to their faces and began to remove their masks.
They tossed them on the ground one by one, all of them except for Player. He alone kept his face concealed. I gasped when I recognized two of the faces, and a chill passed through me.
“So lovely to see you again, angel…” Bryan Nelson burst into a laugh so diabolical that it gave me goosebumps. I remembered him; I’d met him once at the first party I’d ever gone to with Logan, just after I arrived in New York. He was the host, and he’d tried to pick me up, but I’d shot him down immediately.
His brother was Carter Nelson, the boy Neil had beaten up for trying to rape Chloe. How had I not thought about the Nelson brothers before?
“Wait—how do you know her?” the blond girl, her red mask dangling from her hand, moved over to him and allowed me to get a better look at her. It was Britney. The girl Neil had used to get under my skin that night in the pool house with the Krew. The same one we’d seen later in the club with Megan.
What did she have to do with this? What could she possibly want from us?
She moved closer to Bryan and blinked curiously at him as he draped an arm around her shoulders, whispering something into her ear.
“Gregory, Lex, Dallas, Dean…” Neil muttered, his eyes going wide. “Seriously, Nelson?” He turned to look at the blond woman, his jaw clenching. “You set your teammates and some whore I fucked on me? Why?” Neil demanded.
“Why? Are you actually asking me that?” Bryan raged. He made a fist with one hand, ready to hit Neil again, but Player raised a hand, cowing him into stillness. Bryan gave a growl of rage and began to speak again. “You beat the hell out of my brother. He was in a coma—he almost died because of you, you motherfucker. Did you think you’d just get away with it? When this guy came looking for me…” he gestured to Player standing motionless next to him, “and asked if I wanted to get back at you, I agreed. I agreed and cut a deal with him because we both had the same goal: to seeyou fucking dead. I got my friends to help keep an eye on you. Britney let you pick her up just to see what kind of relationship you had with Selene. Then she posed as Player in that fucking video chat. We wanted to throw you off the scent, making you think Player was a woman. We were fucking with you, Miller,” he explained.
“So you’re the one who thought up all the puzzles and carried out all the attacks?” Neil asked, in shock. Bryan shook his head with an evil grin.
“Nah, I just helped out a bit. Logan’s wreck and your skank’s and the one with Chloe, the rock through your windshield, all of that…” He paused, a malicious gleam in his eyes. “I helped Player carry it out. But I didn’t make up the riddles…” He turned to look at the only man still wearing a mask.
The masked man raised both arms, making the dark fabric of his sweatshirt stretch over his biceps as he uncovered his face with an agonizing slowness.
Little by little, I watched his sharp features emerge: a short beard, a square jaw, thin lips, hair the color of wheat, and gleaming eyes, such a light blue that they were almost white. He tossed his mask at Neil, and I watched Neil’s face to see if there was any recognition there, but all I saw was bewilderment.
“I used to see you out in the yard when I’d come to get Megan. You were always alone out there, just playing by yourself with this old basketball. A snot-nosed little outcast. I actually felt sorry for you…” Player said, and Neil narrowed his eyes. A flare of understanding ignited there.
Neil knew exactly who this man was.
“Ryan…” he murmured, sounding stupefied. The man lifted one side of his mouth in a sinister smile. “You’re supposed to be in prison…” Neil continued, horrified. All at once, the air turned icy, and time seemed to stand still as a rivulet of cold sweat made its way down my temple. Player was Ryan Von Doom.
Neil had told me all about him: He had used his position as a guitar teacher to abuse children, specifically Megan. But his real career had been as the owner and operator of an illegal dark website, trafficking videos and images of that same abuse for other pedophiles online. He had been the one pulling Kimberly Bennett’s strings.
