Page 17 of Haunt

“Oh, yeah?” With his hand still held out, Ravage moves toward me until the gun is pressed between his collarbones, at the hollow of his throat. “You want to tell me all about it, princess? You want to?—”

He stops talking when I pull the trigger reflexively, without even having to think about it. But when the gun clicks around an empty chamber, the two of us just stand there, and my face falls as I realize something very important.

The gun is empty.

I pull the trigger again, then once more for good measure, before Ravage lunges forward to knock the gun from my hand, sending it spinning across the floor. I dart to the side, or try to, but Ravage slams me into the wall, fingers going around my throat easily and quickly. This time, though, it’s the warm press of his palm against my throat, instead of the slide of his gloves.

“Oh,Noa.” Hetsksat me, shaking his head slowly from side to side. “That was the wrong choice, princess. But that’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” He curls closer to me, his body pressed to mine. “I’ll just have to teach you how to make better choices, won’t I?”

9

Before I can thinkof what to say or do orscream, Harrow strides closer, reaching out to tilt my chin up to him, eyes studying mine from behind the mask. “Let me,” he murmurs, reaching out and grabbing Ravage by the back of the throat. When the other man growls his protest, Harrow turns on him, lifting his chin in a taunting challenge. “Rav…” he warns, grip tightening. “Doyouwant a lesson on how to behave? In front of Noa, no less?”

That definitely shouldn’t make my stomach twist in anticipation, and I drop my gaze to the floor, glaring at the gun that’s a few yards away. If it had been loaded, I wouldn’t be in this mess right now. Probably. Though, I’d also be a murderer, which doesn’t sound so great either.

But the thought makes me giggle, and I press a hand over my mouth even as the two of them look at me. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” I ramble, closing my eyes.

“What’s so funny, princess?” Ravage relaxes into Harrow’s hold, leaning up to nuzzle his mask against the taller man’s throat in a show of submission before Harrow lets go of him.

“No, it’s just…” I shrug my shoulders. “Here I am, debating what’s worse. The gun being not loaded, so now I’m probablygoing to get murdered by two men in Halloween masks atthe wrong fucking extreme haunt. Or the gun being loaded, making me a fucking murderer for shooting you in the throat.” Closing my eyes hard, I drop my hand to press them both against the wall behind me before lifting my face and opening my eyes to look between them. “And I can’t decide which would be worse.”

They trade a look and Ravage scoffs softly under his breath, reaching out to tuck my hair that’s completely come undone from the ponytail it had been in behind my ear. “I was never in any danger,” he purrs. “If I hadn’t known the gun was empty, I wouldn’t have let you press it to my throat.”

I shake my head, grinning humorlessly. “That’s probably not the comfort you think it is.” Sucking in a breath, I press back against the wall behind me, the concrete cool against my palms. “Let me go. Please,” I say, keeping my voice level and no note of pleading or begging anywhere to be found. “I really, literally won’t tell anyone. What would I even say? ‘Some crazy people in masks killed people in a warehouse that I don’t know the address of, officer’?” I tilt my head to the side, glaring at them incredulously. “Come on. Who’s going to believe that?”

The two of them trade a look before Ravage sighs and shakes his head. “I expected begging,” he admits. “I’m pretty thrilled youaren’tbegging for us not to kill you, admittedly. That gets really boring, really fast. But…”—he tips his head to the side, studying me from behind the skeleton mask—“we still have a lesson to teach you about making good choices, remember?” He casts a look at Harrow just as I glance to the side, debating whether I could make it to the nearest door.

“We’ll take her to your room. I guess it was worth you dragging that stupid mattress in there after all.” Harrow cuffs Ravage lightly on the shoulder, making the other man sneer a laugh.

When he turns to me, I bolt, but I only make it two steps before I’m hauled off my feet and thrown over Ravage’s shoulder, my breath leaving me in a gasp. “Put me down!” I protest, kicking against his chest. My hand comes up, slipping against his shoulder, as I try to get some kind of leverage to kick him again.

At least, until he pins my legs against his chest. “Sofeisty, princess,” he laughs. “I love it. But I don’t need my chest all bruised up, so you’re gonna have to wait until we get there.” He strides purposefully toward one side of the room, his foot connecting with the door hard enough to make me wince and causing it to slam open on its hinges.

Harrow follows him, casual and unbothered, just shaking his head at the now-dented door before he closes it behind him and trails us down a hallway. I glare up at the animal mask, meeting his thoughtful gaze before dropping my eyes back down to the floor and the occasional glimpse of Harrow’s boots.

Another door is shoved open in front of Ravage, and suddenly I’m no longer on his shoulder. My feet hit the floor hard, and the man catches me, holding onto my arms until I regain my balance. Not that I plan on thanking him.

Why the hell would I?

Instead, I look at the door, making one last desperate move for it just as Harrow closes it behind him, and a hand comes up to twist in the front of my hoodie. “There you go again, making bad choices,” he sighs softly with a tinge of disappointment in his tone. He walks forward without letting go of me, backing me up across the space until I’m in the middle of the windowless, starkly lit room. I glance around, looking for anything to help me, only seeing a large armchair that’s definitely seen better days, and a mattress covered in mismatched blankets in the corner.

“How prison chic,” I mutter, glaring at Ravage. “It’s very you.”

He snorts and collapses into the armchair to face us, one leg folding over the other. “I’d watch what you say if I were you, princess. Harrow is a lot less playful and…forgivingthan me. If you’d cut him with that knife and kicked him off that table, well…” He rolls his shoulders in a shrug. “He might not have seen it for the fun game it was.”

Frankly, I hadn’t seen it as such afun gameeither. But I figure now isn’t the time to press that point. Especially when Harrow jerks me forward, lifting me onto my toes by my hoodie. “Get on your knees.” His voice is soft. Casual. Like he’s asked me to pass a box of pasta.

“What?”

He doesn’t repeat himself, but his dark eyes narrow behind his mask. He sighs, switching his grip to yank me harder onto my toes, still not repeating himself before he finally lets go. His eyes flash in a silent, pointed warning, and I find myself slowly getting to my knees, hoping not to bruise them any more than they already are.

I can’t help the rush of anxiety that goes through me as he just fuckingstaresat me from behind the mask, eyes narrowed shrewdly. But I do sit back on my heels, figuring I have nothing better to do. At least, until his voice makes me tense up all over again.

“Did you notice, Rav…?” His voice is soft. Casual. Almost affectionate as Harrow taps the toe of his boot on the floor. “Back in the lobby, when our little unexpected visitor was supposed to be watching the video, she wasn’t paying attention. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of my boots…could you, little girl?”

When I don’t answer, he reaches out to grip my chin and forces me to look up at him. “I asked you a question.”

“I…” This is definitely not what I’d expected him to say. “Y-yeah, I guess. Your boots are pretty cool.”

---