Page 4 of Hell to Pay

One thing at a time.

I scooted to the edge of the bed and lifted the silver dome from the plate to reveal an omelet, wheat toast, and fresh melon. Not what I would have expected as prisoner rations, although I guess the plastic utensils were par for the course, but I would take it.

My stomach was clenched and nervous but I forced myself to start eating anyway. Whatever happened next, I would need strength to face it.

First, food.

Then, I would get that fucking screw loose even if I had to scrape my fingers to the bone to do it.

3

RAFE

My rage waslike an underground volcano, hot lava pulsing and rushing, clearing everything in its path. I knew it was bad. I needed to be clearheaded. Needed to stay focused on the boat bobbing in the lenses of the binoculars.

But all I could think about was her.

Lilah.

I was furious that she’d left the house without us, that she’d accepted the invitation from the sick fucks who were obviously behind the missing girls in Blackwell Falls. But even through my anger at Lilah, a distant voice of reason echoed.

Can you blame her?

And that was the real source of my rage. Lilah hadn’t trusted us enough to come to us when she’d gotten the text with the invitation code, and we had no one to thank for that but ourselves.

Me especially.

Because while Nolan and Jude had been all in on helping her from the beginning, while they’d been able to show remorse for what we’d done to her in high school, I’d been too proud to do the same.

That was in high school, Lilah. Get over it.

The words haunted me. Sickened me.

Especially after what she’d confessed: that she’d tried to end her life in the wake of the nudes we’d sent to the whole school.

The confession had felt like a physical blow, one that had almost brought me to my knees. I’d known we’d hurt her, had known we’d ruined her time in high school, but I’d had no idea it had been as bad as it was.

And how could I? I hadn’t even let myself think about it.

Hadn’t even let myself think abouther.

No fucking wonder she didn’t trust us. Or me anyway.

So yeah, I was fucking pissed at Lilah for taking such a stupid chance, but I was more pissed at myself for making her think she had to, for making her believe we wouldn’t have been there for her no matter fucking what.

And I wasreallypissed at the fuckers who were playing with her life.

I stared at the boat in the binoculars, a white Westport withOspreywritten on its stern. The guy in khakis and a polo was still there — a guard, I was almost sure of it. He had the high-and-tight haircut of a former soldier, his weapon not very artfully hidden in the waistband of his pants.

But the fact that there was a guard on theOspreydidn’t necessarily mean anything. All kinds of assholes had private security: tech bros and Russian oligarchs and celebrities and CEOs. It was a dangerous time to be rich and powerful. The masses were finally waking up, finally realizing that while they’d been reaching for the next rung on the ladder of success, the super rich had pulled it up behind them.

So yeah, the guard could mean Lilah was there, but it was just as likely that the yacht was owned by some mediocre rich guy who’d convinced himself he was special because he’d managed to game the system.

And Lilahwasn’tthere. I was almost sure of it. I couldfeelthe absence of her, the vacuum where she should have been.

My money was on theArtemis, the boat under surveillance by Nolan and Jude. At least that was what I told myself to hold at bay the other possibility: that Lilah was on neither boat. That by the time we’d figured out she’d been picked up at the dock on the east side of Folegandros, she was already long gone.

I stuffed down a swell of primal fear, the kind that made me want to bellow into the wind, crawl out of my skin, pull out my biggest weapon and shoot holes in the universe.

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