Running is out of the question.
Griffin edges away from the salt line as Mathis approaches. Mathis looks amused. He goes to step over it.
He jerks back with a wince.
Mathis’s lips peel back from his teeth. The amusement is gone. What’s left behind is pure rage.
“Living room. Call Nico,” Griffin whispers in my ear.
Mathis prowls his end of the hallway like a caged animal looking for weakness.
Griffin steps closer to the salt line. My hand flies to his wrist, but he shrugs me off, eyes on Mathis, who’s lingering by the front door.
“Usually, we have to work a little harder for our captures, but you served yourself up,” Griffin says.
Mathis glowers, turning back toward us. I understand then. Mathis is too focused on Griffin to notice me disappear into the living room.
I back up until I reach the cased opening leading to the living room, keeping Griffin in my line of sight as I press my phone to my ear. Each ring is torture.
“Eden?” Nico’s voice cuts through the line, and I’ve never been so relieved to hear another human being in my entire life.
“We found the Game Master,” I say quickly, my voice low. “He’s?—”
“Both of you stay in the truck. Where are you?”
“We’re stuck in the apartment with him. There’s a salt line down, but he’s blocking our exit.”
I check on Griffin. He’s successfully enticed Mathis away from the front door, but he must be running out of taunts because he’s resorted to flipping Mathis off. Mathis scowls, several feet from the salt line.
“How soon can you get here?” I ask. “We’re at?—”
In the blink of an eye, Mathis has surged to the very edge of the line, arm stretched over our only real defense. His handclamps around Griffin’s outstretched wrist before Griffin can react.
Vaguely, I know Nico is trying to talk to me, but I can’t focus on anything but what’s unfolding in front of me.
Mathis yanks, pulling Griffin across the salt line. Griffin tries to plant his feet, but his prosthetic skids on the hardwood, unable to find purchase, and I watch in horror as Mathis throws Griffin across the hallway floor like he weighs nothing—through the salt line.
Mathis charges through the broken line after him. I stumble back into the kitchen, eyes glued to Griffin as he struggles in Mathis’s grip. They crash into the living room.
I distantly hear Nico yelling my name. Mathis’s eyes lock onto my phone as I bring it back to my ear. The words die on my tongue. “Uh...”
Griffin grabs a crowbar from the duffel bag and drives the tip into Mathis’s chin.
Mathis hisses, head snapping up and spine arching like the crowbar is branding his skin. But then his pain drains away, replaced by something so empty it makes my blood freeze.
He spins around with a roar, ripping the crowbar out of Griffin’s grip. Mathis grabs Griffin with both hands and launches him across the room.
Griffin slams into the wall. He crumples to the floor in a heap, his prosthetic twisted at a wrong angle under him, and his head lolls to the side. He doesn’t move.
No.
Mathis turns his full attention to me. I bolt around the couch, my sneakers skidding as I try to get furniture between us.
“Eden,where are you?” Nico’s voice is barely audible over the blood rushing in my ears.
I press my mouth to the speaker. “Edward Mathis 3847 Riversi?—”
Mathis moves faster than any human should be able to move. One second, he’s on the other side of the couch, and the next, he’s grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me down onto the floor.
