Page 206 of What We Become

Micah exhales hard. “He’s kept us alive for a reason. Whatever he wants, we need to keep him talking.”

Eli’s gaze moves from the nearest door to the beam overhead. “The second I get my hands free, I’m burying him alive.”

“He wants payback for Brock,” I say. “He told me last time. Hurting me was how he meant to punish you.” My gaze travels along the row of ropes. “This time, he’s got you all here to watch.”

“Wildcat.” Holden’s voice goes tight. “Why didn’t you tell us he said that to you?”

I shake my head. There isn’t a version of the answer that doesn’t come out sounding like I decided for them. “Because it wouldn’t have changed anything. Because my death was always the⁠—”

The sound of the barn doors creaking stops anyone from saying more. I instinctively still, holding my breath as the faint shuffle of footsteps grows louder. My body tenses, every nerve ending wired and ready to fight despite the restraints.

Stephen saunters in like he owns the place. There’s purpose in every step, his mousy-brown hair damp with the rain, framing a face too soft to match the malignant gleam in his eyes. He carries a worn leather satchel slung over one shoulder, tucking his hands into his pockets as he glances around at us like we’re nothing more than livestock he’s penned up for slaughter.

“Morning, sunshine,” Milo spits, his voice dripping venom. “Enjoying your little power trip?”

Stephen tilts his head, unfazed. In fact, he looks almost amused by Milo’s ire. “Ah, still sharp, even after everything. I always liked that about you, Milo.”

“Where’s Knox?” I demand, unable to keep the panic out of my voice.

His attention shifts to me. “Knox is alive. For now. Whether he stays that way is completely dependent on your compliance.”

He glances toward the smaller door. I twist to follow his gaze, searching for movement, a shadow, anything.

Nothing.

“Bring him here. Let me see him.”

That earns me a fleeting smile. “Nice try.”

“I want to see Knox,” I grind out. “If you’ve hurt him⁠—”

“I haven’t hurt anyone. The truck did the hurting. I just provided the timing.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “Not that you care about people outside your little harem, but the driver is fine. Paid in advance. Didn’t ask questions.”

Bile rises at the conversational warmth.

“And what’s your plan here?” I speak through gritted teeth. “It’d better be better than the last two. I’m getting really tired of being kidnapped by a loser with no follow-through.”

Stephen’s smile doesn’t flicker. If anything, it sharpens, turning cold and jagged. He walks toward me, the soles of his boots crunching on the dry straw.

“You think my previous attempts were about a lack of resolve? No, Sage. They were about timing. Brock was always impulsive. That was his flaw. Mine? I’m a student of patience. I wait for the perfect moment. This”—he gestures to the five of us hanging like party decorations nobody took down—“is the perfect moment.”

“You’re a student of being a fucking creep,” Milo barks, his body jerking as he tries to find purchase on the air. The beam above him creaks, a sickening wooden groan that echoes through the rafters. “Let me down and I’ll show you some follow-through that’ll leave you in a body bag.”

Stephen doesn’t even look at him. His eyes stay locked on mine, tracing the line of the birthday collar. He reaches out, his fingers hovering just an inch from the leather. I flinch back.

“Don’t touch her.” Eli’s voice is a low vibration. “I will rip your throat out with my teeth.”

Stephen finally turns, giving Eli a look of mild curiosity. “Always so protective. It’s admirable, really. But you’re currently a decorative element in my barn, Eli. Try to remember your place in the hierarchy of this room.”

“Fuck you, you piece of shit!” Micah spits at the floor, and Stephen just smiles.

“Boys and girl,” he says, turning back to me, his mouth curling at the edge. “If you can’t be quiet, our darling Sage will never know the plan.”

“Just spit it out,” I hiss.

“Oh, bestie, this time I’m going with simple—no more thematic resonance with what you did versus what I do to you. No. This time, I want the truth. I want you to give it up, once and for all. I want the story told straight—by you.” He pauses. Lets the silence work for him. “And if you can’t be honest with me, I’ll kill each of your boyfriends. One. By. One.”

FORTY-NINE