Page 52 of Deadly Little Games

Gage reaches for the door.

“What are you hiding from me? Do you know where Alec is?” I ask and Gage stops, hand on the handle.

“Nothing is as it seems, Freya,” he says, then he’s gone before I can figure out what that even means.

No wonder I can’t trust anyone here when all they do is talk in riddles.

Amirah bursts through the door and rushes over to me, embracing me tightly. She withdraws and examines me.

“Are you okay? What the hell happened?” she asks in a rush.

“I’m fine. Let’s go to your room,” I say, and she tightly grips my hand, shooting a piercing glare at Hazen, who casually leans against the vanity.

Seated on Gage’s bed, Lucas springs to his feet the moment we emerge from the bathroom. But with a simple shake of my head, he halts in his tracks, a pained look in his eyes.

As we make our way down the hallway, I let Amirah lead me into her cozy bedroom, and I’m ready to fall onto her bed. She retrieves a set of silk pajamas, and I change into them. Joining Amirah on her bed, I quickly twist my damp hair up into a bun.

At her urging, I recount what happened at the club after we were separated, and with each word that leaves my mouth, she becomes angrier and angrier.

“I love my brother, but when it comes to The Brotherhood, no one ever comes before that. They signed their lives away years ago, and I’m stuck here, too, until they figure out what Dominic wants to do with me.” Amirah sighs,falling back onto her pillow. “What are you going to do?” she asks, and I shake my head.

“I think it’s time to go to the police.”

I’ve held off going to the local police, but I don’t have any other choice. Alec has been missing for weeks now, and they might know something or could even help me find him.

Amirah sits up, looking down at me. “But they are corrupt and in The Brotherhood’s pocket.”

“I don’t have any other choice. Maybe they know something I don’t.”

“Just be careful. I’ll come with you,” she says, and I nod.

My phone vibrates next to me, and when I pick it up and unlock the screen, my stomach sinks.

You could have saved your brother, but you’re too late.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hazen

His piercing screams reverberate through the shed, creating an eerie echo that bounces off the walls and back into my ears. The little bitch has been screaming like a little girl for hours but still hasn’t muttered a word. I’m about ready to kill the fucker for wasting my time and energy.

“Next finger will be this one,” I say, placing the vice around his index finger and pushing down.

He screams, tears falling down his pathetic face. “No! I told you everything I know.”

“Bullshit. Where is he?” What I have managed to extract from him is absolutely useless; I already know it all. With so many men at our disposal, it’s not necessary for me to be involved in this, but there’s a special circumstance that sets it apart. This is personal, and I want to hear the truth fall from his lips. I want answers.

I’ve had enough. With a tight grip, I exert pressure until his finger separates, joining the other three on the bloody ground. Despite his wailing and thrashing, the restraints hold him firmly in thechair.

It’s frustrating that he’s still refusing to speak; he was ready to share something with Freya before, but now he’s not playing ball. Looks like he doesn’t give a fuck about his fingers. Next is his face.

I make my way to the wall where my tools are stored and pick out a carving knife. I run my thumb along its edge. I can’t help but smile as I watch a drop of blood drip down my thumb, and I savor the metallic scent in the air.

The door creaks open, and Gage’s eyes widen in horror as he takes in the sight of me, covered in blood. A shudder runs through his body. It’s comical that he’s so unnerved by the sight of blood, especially considering our occupation. Whenever he gets any on him, he has to spend hours cleaning it off.

“Any luck?” he asks, moving around the tarp that’s surrounding the guy. He’s being careful not to get anything on his shoes.

I shake my head, twirling the knife between my fingers. “I’m about to go Picasso on his face. Wanna watch?”

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