Page 62 of Liars

Not over him.

Not over any of the Corvos.

I smirked. “Your move, Maddox.”

A cruel twist of his lips had a trickle of regret sneaking inside me. “With pleasure. Turn around.”

I narrowed my gaze. “As if I’d trust you with my back.”

His voice dipped lower, threaded with something I couldn’t quite place. “Turn around,” he stated again.

I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him to suck it, but before I could decide, Maddox cut me off with a finger to my lips.

I considered biting him. Hard. But I thought better of it. The taste of Kreed was tolerable. Maddox? Probably sickening.

His hands landed on my shoulders, rough and unyielding, spinning me around before I could react. “Don’t move,” he murmured in my ear, his breath hot and reeking of beer.

A moment later, something soft and cool—silk—dangled in front of my face.

My heartbeat kicked up, unease tripling. “Is this necessary?” I asked as he tied the blindfold snugly at the back of my head.

“Do you want to play or not?”

No. Every instinct in me screamed it.

I should listen to the voice of reason. Instinct screamed at me to run, to end the game before it began, or perhaps I already had.

But I didn’t move. Didn’t back out.

I clamped my mouth shut, finding myself at Maddox’s mercy.

Maddox chuckled, amused by my silence. “Good,” he murmured. “Don’t worry, menace. I won’t scare you…” He paused, then added, “Too much.”

Not convincing.

The music from the party above was muffled now, the bass blending into the heavy thud of my heartbeat. I stumbled slightly as Maddox guided me forward, his grip firm on my arm. “Where are we going?” My words were shaky but defiant.

“To where the real party is.”

The air thickened as we stepped down another level. It was damp, musty. The scent of mildew clung to the walls, the warmth of flickering candlelight pressing against my skin. But the worst part?

We weren’t alone.

I could hear them. The quiet scrape of shoes on stone. Murmurs. Breaths too close, too eager. “We’re not alone, are we?” I kept my voice steady.

“Not even close.” Maddox’s smirk was palpable.

And then the bastard shoved me.

I stumbled forward, my boots sliding on dust or dirt—hard to tell. I caught my balance but barely.

Maddox’s voice slithered toward me. “This is a game, menace. Think of it as a variation of Spin the Bottle. We’ve just…modified the rules.”

Cold dread twisted in my stomach.

“You’re the bottle,” he stated.

My breath hitched.

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