Page 68 of The Devil's Waltz

Grayson startles out of the daze he was in, falling off the chair and scrambling upright. He sways on his feet before catching his balance, his eyes whipping around the room, taking in his surroundings before his gaze swings between the demon and Phoebe, then to Lucia, and finally to me. He shakes his head, confusion and panic contorting his typically soft, charming features.

“What the hell is going on?” he shouts, grabbing for the demon, who swats him away without so much as glancing in his direction. Grayson lands with a loudthump, smacking his head on the wood floor so hard his eyes roll back.

My eyes dart between him and the demon standing over Phoebe as he wraps his fingers around her throat. She gasps for air, pleading with the demon as he blocks her from my view. And when my name leaves her lips in a strangled cry, I suck in a breath and turn my attention to Lucia.

“Make him stop! He’s going to kill her!” My voice cracks, and the demon holding me cackles in my ear as I struggle against him, fighting to break free.

Lucia licks her lips, casting an uninterested glance in their direction. “Yes,” she says simply, “he is.” With that, Lucia leaves the room, renewing my vigor to fight my captor.

I slam my elbow back, catching him in the ribs, but he only barks out a laugh and tightens his grip.

I have to fight harder. I can’t let them win, can’t let—

When Phoebe’s whimpering gasps go quiet, I freeze.

No. Please, no.

The demon in front of her huffs out an irritated sigh and shifts away.

A sob gets caught in my throat when my eyes land on her face. It’s blanched of color, her eyes bloodshot and empty and her cheeks wetwith tears. She’s unnaturally still, and blood drips from both of her nostrils, spilling over her lips and chin.

I can’t look away. I’m waiting for her to blink, tobreathe, but she doesn’t. Phoebe isgone.

I shake my head, tears rolling down my cheeks. When Grayson stirs on the floor, I finally look away from Phoebe. Grayson groans in pain as he struggles to sit up, appearing more dazed than before. Until his eyes fall on Phoebe.

“No,” he whispers, shaking his head, as if he’s trying to dispel what he’s seeing.

“Gray,” I cry, “I’m so sorry.”

He’s on his knees, staring at her as tears fill his eyes. Minutes pass, or maybe it’s only seconds. Time doesn’t make sense anymore—nothing does. Grayson finally looks at me, and the confusion mixed with agony in his eyes punches a hole right through my gut. “Cami…” My name on his lips sounds like a prayer, as if he believes I can save us.

“It’s going to be okay,” I lie through my teeth, through the fresh tears gathering in my eyes.

The demon moves in a blur, and in the space of a heartbeat, he snaps Grayson’s neck.

There’s an awful, high-pitched shriek that fills my ears, and too much time passes before I realize the sound is coming from me. It rattles through me until my throat is raw and tears are streaming down my cheeks.

“Why?” I scream through the tears.

“Remember this moment the next time you consider defying our queen,” the demon speaks low in my ear, then releases me. “This is simply a taste of the pain she can inflict upon you if she doesn’t get what she wants.”

My mouth falls open as the other demon drops Grayson’s body, as if it’s a piece of trash he’s disposing of. The demons walk out of the room without another word, and the door slamming shut behind him echoes through me, as if I’m completely hollow.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

Gasping for air as I choke on a sob, my face heats and black spots dot my vision. My stomach floods with nausea as tears roll down my cheeks, and I feel myself falling. Time stretches thin, and I can’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears.

I should be running, trying to escape this hell, but the panic consuming my entire body makes it impossible to move, to think, tobreathe.

Collapsing in between the bodies of my friends, the world goes dark, and I fall into oblivion.

NINETEENXANDER

I slam the empty shot glass onto the counter, grimacing at the brutal tightness in my chest. The liquor was meant to act as a distraction from the foreign sensation, but the burn igniting a path from my throat to my stomach is dull in comparison.

“What’s the matter with you?” Blake asks, arching a brow as he refills my glass.

We’ve been sitting at his bar for over an hour. I’ve lost count of the shots I’ve swallowed, and Blake doesn’t stop pouring them. I exhale a quiet sigh, glancing around while he types a message on his phone.

---