Page 132 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

Troy’s heartbeat is closest.

Riley runs left.

His feet pound on concrete. He hasn’t hit his limit yet, only getting stronger and stronger. Lights from way up ahead on the road blind him.

Twin orbs so bright his skull stings.

A car.

People.

‘HELP!’ he screams, waving his arms. ‘Help me, please!’

The car starts to slow, but then something slams into him from behind and the lights vanish into silent, dreamless dark.

✴

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

He wakes in his room.

Troy and two others are there.

His head is foggy, can’t keep thoughts together, they trickle away like water in cupped hands until he forces them to stay.

Jean-Marie.

Julian. Isabel. Céliane.

‘He’s waking up,’ one of the men tells Troy.

Riley hasn’t opened his eyes yet.

His body hurts.

It’s worse than any beating Troy ever gave him. There’s a thudding pressure in both wrists and a brittle pain deep in his shoulders. His spine aches like he needs to pop it, and his jaw feels far too tight.

He moans, trying to move but he can’t.

He’s tied to the bed, like when he killed D’Angelo.

‘You go down. I’ll be there soon,’ Troy tells the two. He roughly taps Riley’s face. ‘You awake? Riley?’

Clever boy for lying. I’m so proud of you.

He opens his eyes, says nothing.

‘Can you hear me?’ Troy waits, oddly hopeful, but then it dies. ‘You’re tied up because you were going fucking crazy.’ Riley frowns, doesn’t remember that. ‘You took a chunk out of Turner’s neck. He bled to death. It’s like I told you, Riley,’ Troy says clearly, mouth movements just slightly exaggerated. ‘You always run.’

‘Because,’ Riley answers quietly, ‘you’re not my family.’

Troy’s expression darkens dangerously. ‘Who told you that?’

Riley looks away, stares mutinously at the ceiling.

‘Answer me,’ Troy snaps, grabbing his face to make him look, but Riley closes his eyes. Riley might be bound, but he doesn’t have to obey. ‘Fine. Let’s see how you like three days tied to the bed in your own piss and shit.’

Troy storms off.