Page 4 of High Stakes

And that is his biggest mistake.

The other monsters might be big and scary.

But I am the one currently holding his life in the balance.

He shakes his head and takes a ragged breath. “Everything was done through wires and burners. There was no face-to-face interaction. We met in groups to discuss details, but no oneother than the teams met.” His bottom lip quivers as he speaks and his eyes close.

I’ve dedicated so much of my soul to hunting down each and every one of these people. To try and piece together the broken remnants that is my life. Every single one of them that I have found and tortured had nothing to say.

I look down at the final piece of my scavenger hunt and sigh loudly. “This was very anticlimactic and disappointing. I had hoped that you would have some helpful information.”

His eyes fly open and that spark of hope flares to life in his eyes. “Does this mean you’re going to let me go?”

I roll my eyes so hard I almost see the inside of my skull. “Sorry, Peter, but that was never in the cards for you.” I crouch down until I’m just a few inches from his face. My lips twitch up into a sadistic smile as that little light of hope fades from his eyes, leaving them glistening with unshed tears. “You gambled and came up with a losing hand.”

He thrashes against the bindings and opens his mouth, but no scream ever passes his lips. My blade glides smoothly across his throat, severing the vessels. The arterial spray arcs up and coats my face in crimson. It drips down my bare arm, covering my snake and phoenix tattoos in red. His lips are stained with the red frothing from his mouth and his pupils blow wide as his eyes dart back and forth. “This is the price you pay when you play a game with such high stakes,” I whisper, and tilt my chin up, watching the light fade from his eyes.

He slumps to the side with a dull thud. I stand and stagger back, wiping the blood from my face with my clean arm. As I watch his life-blood puddle beneath his head, my heart rate kicks up and my chest tightens. Every breath is an effort as I watch the last lead I have bleed out.

My head swivels, checking my surroundings before I back myself against the wall and collapse into a heap. I rake myfingers through my hair, sticky from the congealed blood tangled in the long locks, and tug hard on the roots. My breathing is shallow and ragged as I fight the anxiety building inside my chest. My stomach drops and I exhale a sound that is equal parts scream and sob.

The fire burning through my body makes me feel like my skin is going to peel off and my blood is about to boil out of my veins. My heart hammers steadily against my ribcage and I can hear each pulse reverberating against my eardrums. Tears stream unbidden down my cheeks as I draw in a ragged inhale.

I look around the empty room and try to talk myself down from the ledge that is rapidly approaching, beckoning me to jump off. This lead was the last one I had. The last chance for answers to so many questions.

I pull my knees up to my chest, and hug them tightly, rocking slightly as I fight to regain control of my body. Another shuddering sob racks my body as I think about how truly alone I am.

There’s no one coming to my rescue.

No one to help me pick up the pieces of this broken soul.

“For fuck’s sake, Em, get a grip,” I mutter and inhale sharply, willing my heart to slow and my lungs to expand. My body protests and my brain misfires yet again, causing another wave of anxiety to crash into me. “Fuck!” I scream, and drop my forehead to my knees.

I sit in silence for several minutes, timing my breathing to the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. “Inhale for five and then exhale for five,” I whisper and touch my fingers to the laces on my boot, twirling the aglet between my fingertips. I use my five senses to slowly de-escalate out of the panic attack that is threatening to take over.

Touch.

Hearing.

Smell.

Taste.

Sight.

I tilt my head and focus on the ticking of the clock. The air smells like cleaning supplies and iron. My tongue flicks out to wet my dry lips and I taste the sweat from my clammy skin. I do another set of five second inhales and exhales, and then open my eyes. Blinking against the onslaught of bright light, it takes me a minute before I can focus on the man standing before me.

The corner of my lip quirks up as I take in the thick, dark beard and tattoos decorating his bald head. “Sup,” I say with forced confidence and nod my head at him.

Hector unfolds his arms and holds out a hand to me without a word.

My fingers close tightly around his offered hand and I let him pull me to my feet. He squeezes once before letting go and moving to the black bag open on the floor. I watch in silence as he methodically pulls out supplies for clean-up, laying them all out before moving to the body.

I realize that I don’t need anyone to pick up the pieces. I just need someone to help me sweep up the ashes as I rise back up like the phoenix I am.

2

DECLAN

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