Vipers and Virtuosos (Monsters & Muses, #2)(100)

Finally, I get out of the cab and hike my duffel over my shoulder, starting up the front walk to her cabin. A fuzzy yellow glow shines in my peripheral, bouncing off the melting snow, and when I turn in the direction of the cabin I’d been staying in, I see it.

One of the windows on the second floor is lit up, and a shadow moves behind the curtain. My nerves pull tight in my stomach, knotting together.

Is she in my old cabin?

My steps slow as soon as they change direction, suspicion creeping up my spine. If she is waiting, if she saw the show… wouldn’t she have reached out?

Chest tight, I narrow my eyes as the figure in the window disappears, almost pulling a direct page from my book. On the one hand, I wouldn’t put it past Riley to mimic the days before I made my presence fully known to her, but on the other, she has no way of knowing I’d even be here.

Making my way down around the lake, I move in slow, soft steps and stick to the shadows, doing my best to go undetected by whoever the fuck is in the cabin. Rounding the back, I go for the entrance off the laundry room, moving to shimmy it open as quietly as possible.

The air is eerily silent and still when I get inside, easing the door shut behind me. I peek down the hall, noting the distinct lack of voices and movement, apprehension licking down my back like the flames of an uncontrollable wildfire.

I have a bad feeling, and it lodges itself deep in my gut, refusing to dissipate.

Just in case, I glance around the room quickly for something to use as a potential weapon. My father, for all his faults, always taught me to never go into a blind negotiation without a trick or two up your sleeve—I’d like to believe that extends beyond the boardroom, to dangerous situations, as well.

Unfortunately, my options are incredibly limited, so I grab the object closest to me; an iron. Detaching the cord, I drop it to the floor, hook my fingers around the plastic handle, and exit the room.

Shuffling my feet, I do my best to avoid creaky floorboards, advancing down the hall with my back against the wall, flipping on lights as I go. The main level is clear, completely empty from what I can tell, but that yellow glow still drifts from upstairs, so I move toward it.

I’m hoping that maybe I just forgot to turn the light off. Or maybe, for some insane reason, Riley decided to come back and wait. Maybe she watched the concert and hoped I’d be back, so she cut out the middle territory.

Even as those thoughts swim in my brain, I know they’re not plausible. And when I crest the top of the stairs, my grip tightening on the iron as my stomach sinks to my ass, those fears are confirmed.

Riley lies prone on her back, hands zip-tied behind her, duct-tape slapped across her mouth. She’s staring blankly at the wall in front of her, and I see a little puddle of blood trickling out of a wound in her side.

My eyes go wide, bulging so hard that I think they might fall from their sockets, as I take her in; in the pale lighting, I can see bruises scattered across her forehead, and there are claw marks on the wooden floor around her.

Like she tried to fight off whoever did this.

I slip to the end of the hall where the bedroom is, leaning in to scan it quickly. Other than Riley, I don’t see anyone else, and since I’m not sure what the fuck is going on, or how much time we have before they come back, I spring into action.

Her blue eyes snap to mine as I hurry over to her, immediately using my keys to try and saw the zip tie apart. It doesn’t work; she’s squirming, freaking the fuck out as I try to work her free, and the keys are too dull for the material keeping her bound.

Fear swirls in her ocean eyes as I turn her head up, ripping the tape from her mouth.

“What the fuck is going on?” I ask, brushing my fingers against her temple. “What happened to you?”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she sobs, spitting blood onto the floor, and I can’t tell at first if she’s having some kind of breakdown or what. Gripping her shoulders, I roll her so she’s on her good side, trying to get her to focus.

“You can’t be here,” she says, tears welling up in her eyes.

Under any other circumstance, my dick would be positively fucking throbbing at the sight, but right now, with her fear and hysteria aimed at someone other than me, all it does is enrage me.

“Why the fuck are you here?”

“I was coming to you,” she whispers, pausing mid-sob to say it. “I saw your concert, and I wanted… I wanted—”

“She wanted to let you know that she’s a dirty little trailer whore who doesn’t deserve you.”

The addition of a new voice takes me completely off guard, and I whirl around to see a somewhat familiar face lurking in the doorway.

Platinum-blonde hair. Dark, almond-shaped eyes.

A sneer I’d love to smack off her smug little face.

The girl I met at the art gallery walks into the room, grinning maniacally at the two of us. Fuck, what was her name? Moira, Molly, Michelle?

Keeping her hands behind her back, she enters the room slowly, her gaze volleying between Riley and me.

I shift so I’m positioned more in front of Riley’s face and chest and turn to glare at the intruder. “Didn’t you two used to be friends? Why have you tied her up and beaten her?”

“Not my fault you couldn’t finish your job.” She moves to lean against the full bed on one side of the room, and when she does, she folds her arms across her chest, brandishing a giant kitchen knife.