A quiet laugh escapes him.
“I think I’m done playing,” he says under his breath. “Not really interested in repeating that with anyone else tonight.”
Before I can respond, another voice cuts through the circle.
“If you’re done,” Silas says, “then I think it’s my turn.”
The shift is immediate.
Kadin and I both look up.
Silas is holding the bottle now, his fingers wrapped around the glass so tightly his knuckles have gone pale. Anyone else in the room might miss it, but after the last twenty-four hours I recognize exactly what that tension means.
He’s containing something.
Barely.
A quiet curse slips through my mind.
Fuck you, Silas.
“We’re done playing,” I say sharply as Kadin helps me to my feet.
For a moment it seems like Silas might push it further.
Instead, he tilts his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting into a dangerous sort of smile.
“Fine by me,” he replies.
His fingers spin the bottle once against the floor, the glass rattling lazily between us.
“But why don’t we raise the stakes a little,” he adds.
The room quiets with interest.
“Whoever my turn lands on,” Silas continues, that smirk sharpening, “gets to join me in the closet for seven minutes.”
The reaction from the room is immediate.
A handful of the girls sitting near the circle lean forward, eyes bright with interest, while several of the guys who had been loudest a moment ago suddenly lose their enthusiasm. A few ofthem laugh nervously, raising their hands like they’re bowing out of the challenge entirely.
The energy shifts from playful to something a little more daring.
“Have fun,” I mutter under my breath, the words angrier than they need to be as I nudge Kadin gently away from the circle.
He doesn’t argue. His hand settles lightly against my arm as we step out of the group together, Cheyenne and Maria following quickly behind us, both of them snickering as they glance back toward the floor where the bottle still rests.
Silas doesn’t hesitate.
He gives the bottle a firm spin, the glass rolling in a quick circle before slowing. The room quiets again as everyone watches to see who it will land on.
When the neck finally settles, it points straight toward Lacey.
A cheerleader.
A girl who carries herself like she already knows she’s the center of attention wherever she goes.
The room erupts in loud approval.
