Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
One last wet, rattling breath escapes his lungs.
I should do something. Call someone. Try to help him. But I can’t move. Can’t look away. Can’t even catch my breath.
The convulsions slow, then stop. His eyes stare at nothing, reflecting the faint, distant lights from the house.
He’s dead. I killed him.
The thought hits me like a physical blow to the chest, making me double over. I retch, bringing up nothing but bile. My whole body shakes uncontrollably. I pull my dress down with numb, blood-slicked fingers.
What the fuck do I do now? Call the police? My father? Run?
Before I can decide, voices reach me through the fog. Familiar voices.
“...swear I heard something this way.”
“Probably just drunk party people getting lost.”
“It was definitely a scream. I’m sure of it.”
Damiano and Flint. Coming closer.
I should call out to them. Ask for help. But my voice won’t work. All that comes out is this broken noise, half sob and half moan.
It’s enough. The footsteps quicken then they’re there, appearing around the corner like they’ve materialized from the fog itself.
They both freeze when they see me, covered in blood, shaking against the hedge. Then their eyes move to Liam’s body, the stake still protruding from his neck, the blood pooling beneath him, almost black in the dim light.
“Holy fuck,” Flint breathes. He takes a step back, running his hand through his hair. “Is that... shit, that’s Liam Bastian.”
Damiano’s face goes dangerously still. “Viktor’s brother.”
The name hangs in the air between them. Even in my shocked state, I can see the color drain from Flint’s face.
“This is bad,” Flint says. “This is really fucking bad.”
Damiano moves first, kneeling beside me, careful not to touch me. “Briar. Are you hurt? Is any of this blood yours?”
I try to answer, but all that comes out is a strangled laugh that turns into tears. Words tumble out between sobs.
“He followed me... he tried to... I couldn’t breathe... he was going to...”
“Shh.” Damiano’s presence is steady, calming. “You don’t have to explain. We can see what happened.”
Flint paces back and forth, then stops abruptly. “We need to call someone. Your father or—”
“Her father?” Damiano snaps. “Maxwell Waters with all his money and mainland connections? You think that’ll help here?”
“Jesus.” Flint crouches next to Liam’s body, checking for a pulse he won’t find. His hands come away slick with blood. “He’s definitely dead.” He wipes his hands on his jeans, looking up at Damiano. “Viktor will tear this island apart looking for whoever did this. You know that, right?”
“I know.” Damiano says, nearly a whisper. “We’re all dead if he finds out.”
“Finds out what?” My voice cracks. “That his brother tried to rape someone and got killed in self-defense? That’s not a crime!”
Flint gives a bitter laugh. “You don’t know Viktor Bastian. He doesn’t care about right or wrong. His brother is dead. Someone’s going to pay.” He looks at Damiano. “And he already hates both of us.”
“Why?” I ask, my teeth chattering from shock.
“History,” Damiano says tersely. “Bad history.”
Flint turns back to Damiano. “We should get her out of here. Take her to the mainland. Tonight. Her father can hide her somewhere until this blows over.”
“It won’t blow over,” Damiano says, still looking at me. “Viktor will find her. And when he does...”
“What then?” Flint gestures wildly at the body. “We can’t just leave him here!”
Damiano rubs his face, leaving a smear of blood across his cheek. “No, we can’t.”
He looks around the maze, then back at Liam’s body, as if calculating something. I can practically see his mind working, formulating a plan even as dread settles in his eyes.
“We need to clean this up. All of it.”
“What?” Now my voice works properly. “No, I need to... we should tell someone...”
“Tell who exactly?” Flint’s laugh is harsh. “No one on this island will take your side over a Bastian. Viktor rules people on this island by fear. Everyone’s either in his pocket or scared of him.”
“But it was self-defense! Look at me!” I gesture to my torn dress, the blood, his and mine, the bruises already forming on my throat. “He was wearing a Hunt mask. He chased me!”
“With the costume party theme back at the house? They’ll say you were both playing along,” Flint says bitterly. “Anyone can be convinced to see things Viktor’s way on this island.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Damiano says quietly. “Not on this island. Not with who his brother is.”
“My dad can fix this,” I say, grasping at anything. “He has money, lawyers...”
“This isn’t Seattle,” Flint says. “You can’t throw money at island justice. Viktor doesn’t follow normal rules.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
Damiano and Flint exchange a look that makes my stomach drop.
“It means Viktor handles things his own way,” Damiano says carefully. “People who cross the Bastians don’t end up in jail. They end up missing. Or worse.”