Page 171 of The Contract

One step.

Then another.

“We’re leaving,” I announce, loud and sharp, adrenaline paving my way. Only now do I realize the circle of five has swelled into a full-blown crowd.

If there were women here before, they’re suddenly gone.

I want to ask what happened to them. Demand to know.

This is not the time, Riley.

Slow and steady, we move.

The wall of men parts like they’ve been told not to bite—yet. Decker lifts a hand in a slow, mocking gesture towards the back exit. Then, he booms, “Let them through.”

And, to my surprise, they do.

We make our way across the room, each step like dragging concrete, and force our way through the thick, metal door?—

Clank.

The slab crashes shut behind us, the sound sharp enough to bite.

The music’s gone. The air shifts—still and cold like something holding its breath.

Then—click. A heavy lock engages.

My stomach free-falls.

“What the fuck?” I whisper, shoving at the door with both hands.

The metal’s slick beneath my palms. No handle. No latch. Mila and I are dead-bolted in, with no way out.

“Hey!” I shout louder, fist pounding. “Hey! Goddamnit, let us out!”

I blink, straining to see—anything—but there’s nothing.

Just the sound of my own breath, too loud in the dark.

I feel it in the distance. That familiar tidal wave of fear. Building. Rushing in. About to crash through me.

“Riley?”

Mila’s voice cracks, so thin. So broken. Like it barely survived the trip from her throat to my ears.

And somehow, that alone manages to break through my own spiraling fear.

Maybe that’s how Kennedy did it. Stole her bravery from my terror. Built pain into armor. Pulled strength from nothing but thin air and fear.

I suck in a breath. Deep. Shaky. Sharp enough to hurt.

Or to kill.

I can do this.

I can big-sister the fuck out of this.

For Mila. For me. And for whatever fucking boogie man is waiting in the dark.

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