The Merciless (The Merciless #1)(27)
Riley’s cheeks are flushed red and her hair is more disheveled than I’ve ever seen it before. She approaches Brooklyn slowly. I dig my teeth into my lower lip, wanting so badly for Brooklyn to kick Riley again, for her to go down long enough for me to steal the key and get out of here. But Riley stops when she reaches Brooklyn’s combat boots.
“You look scared, Ri,” Brooklyn says. “I thought demons were supposed to cower before your God, not the other way around.”
I take a deep breath and calmly search the room for something I could use to pick the padlock at the top of the stairs—or even a weapon. I’m past pretending to be on Riley’s side, past letting this play out and hoping no one gets hurt. This stops now.
“Alexis, get me the knife,” Riley says, and I freeze. Nothing down here is strong enough to use against the knife. Alexis slides it off the floor. The sound of metal dragging over concrete cuts through the basement.
Riley grabs the knife from Alexis. She runs a perfectly manicured nail along the length of the blade. When she reaches the tip, she presses the flesh of her finger into it, drawing a tiny bead of blood. The blood winds around her finger.
“Good,” she says, taking a step closer to Brooklyn. “It’s sharp.”
“Holding a big knife doesn’t make you scary,” Brooklyn says. A smile tugs at her lips. “I have to believe you’ve got the balls to use it.”
“You don’t believe I’ll use this?” Riley asks. Brooklyn starts to shift her legs, but Riley drops onto them before she can lift them off the ground. She slams the knife handle into the side of Brooklyn’s knee, just below the cap.
Brooklyn’s mouth forms a perfect O, and her skin turns white. Her face crumples, and she lets out a strangled cry.
Alexis walks behind Brooklyn and yanks her head back, exposing the pale, fragile skin at her neck. Riley lifts the knife and pushes the tip of the blade to Brooklyn’s neck. She turns it as she speaks, twisting the sharp point farther into Brooklyn’s skin. Brooklyn cringes and tries to pull away, but the pillar behind her head blocks her in.
“Tell me: Are you scared yet?” Riley asks.
CHAPTER TEN
Riley pushes the knife closer to Brooklyn’s throat. I try not to think about how easily she could rip it open. She’ll draw blood if either of them moves. I can practically feel the hate radiating off Riley’s skin. Maybe she does want to help Brooklyn, but that’s not all she wants. She wants her to pay.
“Wait!” The word flies from my mouth before I can think about what I’m doing. Silence follows, and now they’re all looking at me, expecting an explanation. I clear my throat and take a hesitant step toward Riley. “Let me try.”
I know Brooklyn’s sin. Maybe I can get her to admit it without hurting her. Riley considers me with an icy expression, almost as if she can see past my skin and bones, to all the parts I want to keep hidden from her. Then, as though she flipped a switch, her face lights up.
“Of course,” she says. “You should be the one to get her to confess.”
She pushes the knife to my palm, and I wrap my fingers around it. My skin tingles where it touches the wooden handle. Riley takes me by the shoulders and pulls me close, kissing me on the cheek.
“Make us proud,” she says. Her lips leave behind a damp spot that burns into my skin like acid, but I don’t wipe it away. Maybe it’s sick, but I do want to make Riley proud, even after everything.
“Brooklyn,” I say, forcing myself to meet Brooklyn’s gaze, “I know what you did at the party. I saw you. If you just admit it, we can all go home.”
“What did I do, Sofia?” Brooklyn asks. She blinks at me, her dark eyes filled with hate. “Enlighten me.”
“You were in the hot tub with Josh,” I say. “You were . . .” I don’t want to describe the possessive way she mashed her mouth against Josh’s and wrapped her arms around his neck, so I let the rest of my sentence trail off, hoping the others can fill in the blanks.
“Ri, why didn’t you tell us?” Grace says.
“I don’t think I wanted to admit it,” Riley whispers. “I . . .”
“Wait,” Brooklyn interrupts. “You think I screwed your boyfriend?” She pulls her battered leg closer to her body, and her boots scrape against the floor. “I never touched that preppy *.”
“Brooklyn, I’m trying to . . .” Help you, I’d wanted to say. But I press my lips together, cutting myself off.
Riley touches my arm. “She just wants to piss us off,” she says. “But I have ways of finding the truth.”
She pulls a cell phone out of her back pocket. It’s covered in duct tape, and someone drew a tiny picture of a kitten with vampire teeth on the back in thick black Sharpie.
“What are you doing with my phone?” Brooklyn asks. “Did you think me and Josh were sending each other dirty text messages?”
“If you were, you deleted them,” Riley answers. Her eyes have that glow to them again, the same glow they had when she first brought me here to see Brooklyn tied up. “I guess I’ll just have to write some new ones. If you’re not going to admit you’ve been screwing my boyfriend, I’ll get him to do it for you.”
I stare at the phone, wanting to grab it from Riley’s hands and call the police.