Page 63 of Liars

“We’ll spin you, and when you stop, you have to find me. But no peeking. That would be cheating.” A slow pause. “And you don’t want to find out what happens to cheaters.”

“What do I do when I find you?” The words slipped out barely above a whisper, weighed down by the uneasy feeling that this game was about more than just tapping Maddox on the chest.

Maddox chuckled. “You kiss me. Or… whoeveryouthink is me.”

Before I could argue, multiple hands grabbed and spun me. The ground blurred beneath my feet. My stomach lurched. Candlelight and shadows twisted into a nauseating void. By the time I stopped, I was disoriented, my balance wavering.

Maddox’s voice echoed. “Now…find me.”

I swallowed hard and reached out.

Nothing.

I tried again, my fingers brushing against rough fabric—someone’s shirt. A solid chest beneath my palm.

Too lean. Not Maddox. Not that I had a lot of experience feeling him up, but I knew he wore a hoodie, his shoulders were broad, and he had almost a foot of height on me. It wasn’t much, but it was a guideline to start with.

A deep chuckle rumbled from them, and I pulled away, but before I could fully retreat, pain bloomed sharp and sudden on my arm—hot wax.

I gasped, jerking back. “Seriously?” I gritted out.

Maddox’s laughter was closer now. “I did warn you we modified the rules, menace.”

My pulse pounded as my hands curled into fists.

Why the fuck am I playing this stupid game?

What do I get from it?

Bragging rights? To prove to the Corvos that I wasn’t someone they could break?

So what if I survived Raven Night. I wouldn’t be the first.

I gritted my teeth, wanting to tell Maddox to eat ass, but if I backed out now, I wouldn’t live it down, and I wanted the Corvos to know I wasn’t someone they could push around. I wouldn’t curl in a ball and cry. I could handle their shit and anything else they threw at me.

I hoped.

Fine. I’d play his fucked-up game. I wasn’t a quitter.

Moving forward again, I outstretched my arms, feeling my way through the dark. I was sure I looked like a drunk mummy with my hands out in front of me, shuffling along the gritty floor, the sound swallowed by hushed, expectant laughter.

I reached out and touched another chest. This one broader. Solid. My instincts screamed. Don’t. But I forced myself to lean in, bracing for pain. Except this time, it wasn’t pain.

It was worse.

Hands—multiple hands—grasped at me. Rough. Insistent. Invasive.Wrong.

“Let go of me!” I thrashed, twisting, slipping out of my jacket, freeing myself from their forceful clutches, but I had to be quick, or I would find myself trapped again. My heartbeat slammed in my ears, my breathing coming sharp and ragged, but I was blind. No sense of direction. No way to escape.

Laughter swelled around me, thick with something ugly. I felt exposed. My outfit was suddenly too revealing, too skimpy, and I didn’t like it.

Fuck this game.

I ripped the blindfold off, stumbling a foot or two as I attempted to gather my bearings. The candlelight flickered over masked faces. Eyes gleamed behind dark fabric. I couldn’t tell who was who. Couldn’t see them.

A horrible feeling crawled up my spine.

This was bad.

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