These Deadly Games(59)

Of course he’d defend Zoey—something happened between them. Still, he was probably right.

The steady thud, thud, thud of his heart, the musky sandalwood scent of his soap, the feel of his arms around me were more soothing than I could have imagined. Nobody had ever held me like this before. I let out a deep sigh. Exhaustion crept in from all angles, and my eyelids were heavy. So heavy. After everything that happened today, all my body and mind wanted to do was shut down, to escape into the cloudy void of unconsciousness. But I couldn’t fall asleep. I had to find Jeremy Fischer’s address. I forced my eyes back open.

“You know, I’ve been wanting to tell you something…” Dylan muttered, his breath warm on my ear.

“Hmm?” I looked up at him.

He hesitated a moment. “What happened at Lucia’s party … I didn’t want that to happen.”

Zoey’s kiss? Is that what he meant? His lips were so close to mine now. It would take the smallest movement to bring them together. He was only a breath away. But now … I couldn’t … not after Matty. Matty.

Dylan pulled me closer and kissed my forehead instead. He knew now was the wrong time. I struggled to blink as thousand-pound weights closed my eyelids. He stroked my hair, and I shivered … Could he feel that? Would we ever kiss … or have this moment again … Would tomorrow ruin everything … Tomorrow … What would happen … My thoughts were getting jumbled as I slipped in and out of consciousness. Dylan said something else … something in a soothing voice … but his voice merged with those in my dreams …

Fishman’s voice, calling me a traitor.

Matty’s voice, saying he couldn’t breathe.

Caelyn’s voice, begging for help.

And another voice, low and robotic, telling me I’d never see my sister again.





CHAPTER 25


Buzz. Buzz.

My eyelids still weighed a gazillion pounds as I peered through my lashes. A wall was so close to my nose I could see the paint’s rippled texture. Where was I?

Buzz. Buzz.

Was that my phone? My alarm was usually a pleasant twinkling sound—

Memories from the previous day flooded me like a tsunami, and I jolted upright, nearly yelling out in surprise at the figure curled up beside me. Someone else was in my bed.

Dylan.

He was still here, his phone lying next to his face like he’d fallen asleep reading it, his lips gently puffing out with each exhale. Mom probably would’ve been fine with him spending the night under the circumstances, but she’d murder me on the spot if she knew he’d spent it in my bed. I had to get him out of here. Neither my sudden movement nor his buzzing phone had woken him. Maybe he was a heavy sleeper, like Akira. Akira. Oh, God. I had to check on her.

I spidered down to the foot of the bed and darted to my desk, then hesitated—my phone was dead, and it wasn’t safe to use it or my laptop. How was I supposed to get in touch with her? Ugh, my head felt like a boulder, my tongue like a mound of sand. Was this some sort of panic hangover?

Buzz. Buzz.

My phone. Not Dylan’s. Resting on its charging pad, the one place it absolutely wasn’t supposed to be. No. I gingerly reached for it—like it might spring legs, race up my arm, and claw at my face—and flipped it over.

A video started auto-playing, the volume on. It was Caelyn—the black gag had been removed from her mouth, and her eyes looked weary and hazy. Her glasses were still missing. My heart lodged in my throat, choking off my air supply. “It’s eight in the morning on Saturday. And it’s time for the next game.” Her eyes flicked from side to side, almost like she was reading a cue card. “If you don’t play, they’ll kill me. Are you ready?”

“Shit!”

Dylan snorted and burrowed deeper into my pillow.

My lungs seemed to fill with gravel. I could’ve sworn I’d left the phone off its charging pad after the battery drained. Was I absolutely losing my mind? Maybe Dylan put it there, thinking he was doing me a favor. How long had it been on? What might An0nym0us1 have heard? I rushed over and shook his shoulder. “Dylan. Dylan, wake up.”

“Huh?” He made some incoherent grumbling noises, then squinted up at me, like he was confused where he was. He sat up and pawed sleep from his eyes. “Oof. I passed out.”

“Obviously. Did you turn on my phone?”

“What?” He fumbled for his glasses on my dresser behind his head.

“My phone,” I prodded, breathless, “did you turn it on?”

“Uh…” He scrunched his nose. “Why would I?”

Dammit. After checking to make sure the phone was off, I must’ve absentmindedly dropped it on its charging pad out of habit, distracted by Dylan’s questions about my suspect list. I hadn’t been vigilant enough.

Negligent.

Careless.

That meant An0nym0us1 might’ve heard our entire conversation. Now what would they make me do? Would they try to make me hurt Dylan? Had they realized Akira was okay by now? Was Akira okay?

“Are you alright?” asked Dylan, concerned by my panic. “What’s going on?”

Oh, God. I had to check on Akira. And I still had to find Fishman. How the hell was I going to do that now? Either way, I had to get Dylan out of here. He wasn’t safe with me. “C’mon, I need you to leave. If Mom sees you spent the night, she’ll kill me.”