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The wolf tilts his head. The skull remains dead still, while the zombie shifts his weight. The nonchalant movement that hits harder than any fist.

“Fawn.”

Fuck. He knows me. They all do.

“Your sister’s safe. Comfortable. Unharmed.”

“Where?” I close the gap. These are real masks, not party store shit. I can smell him through the rubber, and it’s something dark, expensive, and so very wrong. His hands hang loose…relaxed. Knowing he’s never once in his life had to justify a fucking thing to anyone. “I want to see her. Now.”

“That’s not how this works,” the skull says, his voice deeper…rougher.

“What do you want?”

I ask, knowing damn well there’s always a price. The same one I’ve been paying since I was fifteen.

The zombie laughs. “One night. With us. That’s the trade.”

I stare at the three masks. Three monsters in the dark, offering a deal that makes no sense but perfect sense… all at the same time.

The Winter brothers.

There’s no other family in this town who moves or takes what they want with this kind of casual fucking certainty.

My hands stop shaking while something cold comes over me, the same numbness that got me through Mom’s funeral and through double shifts at the diner when my body wanted to quit. It’s called survival mode. And it’s the only mode I know.

“Show me proof that she’s safe.”

Without hesitation, the wolf pulls out a phone.

And there sits Bailey on a leather couch I don’t recognize. Still in her bunny costume, drinking from a glass. She looks bored with her feet tucked under her, scrolling on her own phone. Malcom—one of the Winter brothers' enforcers— is hovering in the corner behind her, looking all professional. A man accustomed to moving people without leaving a trace.

“She thinks it’s an after-party,” the wolf says. “She’s safe. And she’ll stay that way as long as you cooperate.”

I stare until the image of my sister is burned in my brain. Bailey’s safe. For now. And the only thing keeping her that way is my answer.

“One night,” I say. “And you bring her back to me unharmed. And I swear to God, if she’s hurt…”

“She won’t be,” the skull cuts me off. “We always keep our word.”

We keep our word.

The words hang between us as if they have honor. As if men who corner women in dark parking lots, trading sisters for sex, know what honor means.

But I don’t have a choice. And honestly…I don’t think I ever did.

“Fine.”

The wolf steps toward me until I can feel the heat radiating off him. Through his costume, mask…whatever separates him from being human. He reaches out, straightening my crooked bunny ear, letting his fingers brush back a strand of my hair.

I don’t flinch. I’m pretty much gone at this point, and I’ll stay that way for however long it takes, whatever it costs.

“Come with us,” he says, and it almost sounds gentle…kind, even.

And the bad part? There’s something in me that believes him.

The car is all black, smelling like leather and money. I don’t dare ask questions while the wolf sits next to me, his thigh pressed against mine, still wearing the fucking mask. The skull drives, while the zombie stares out the window, acting as if I’m not even present. Maybe I’m not.

Maybe I left myself back in that parking lot with my phone buzzing about rent and my sister sitting on some stranger’s couch.