These Deadly Games(74)

CHAPTER 32


The thing about toxic friendships is eventually, they’ll poison you.

Zoey’s, it seemed, was the torturous kind of poison that shuts down your nervous system, so you die in extreme agony. Now I had to cut off a limb to stop it from spreading.

I pounded on her front door so hard I thought my fist might bruise. “Zoey! Open the door! I know you’re home.” As I kept going over it in my mind on the drive, it made sense why the games paused last night—Zoey had to wait until her parents were asleep to keep playing. And once they’d left for work this morning, the games resumed.

Finally, I heard shuffling, and a moment later, Zoey cracked the door open a sliver. Her hair was disheveled and matted at the roots, like maybe she hadn’t washed it in a while. The long black sweater she wore over burgundy leggings matched An0nym0us1’s black sleeves in those photos pressing a knife to Caelyn’s throat. I probably should’ve grabbed something to defend myself with before storming over, but with one hand on the doorknob and another gripping the doorframe, she seemed unarmed. “Chill.” Her voice cracked as she peered at me. “I was in the bathroom—”

“Bullshit.” I shoved the door open wider and barreled in, on a warpath to the basement stairs next to the kitchen.

She gasped and retreated against the wall, cowering. I stilled, thrown by her reaction, unsure what unnerved me more—that I thought she’d hurt me, or that she seemed to think I’d hurt her. I shook off the thought and dashed past her, hurtling downstairs.

“Hey!” she cried, following.

The den was different from the last time I was down here—we’d avoided gathering here ever since what happened to Brady. The pool table had been reupholstered with red felt instead of green, and Zoey’s violin and music stand had moved to the other side of a larger flat-screen than the one on which we’d watched Frozen. But that creepy, wood-paneled door in the back corner was the same.

I threw it open and flicked the light switch, my heart pumping so fast I thought it might burst.

The room was empty.

Well, there was stuff in here. A refrigerator, humming gently. An ancient-looking oak rocking chair shoved in the corner. Shelves stocked with tools and gardening supplies, paper goods, boxes and cans of food. Rows of plastic bins labeled things like BABY CLOTHES, SCARVES/GLOVES/HATS, ZOEY’S TOYS, GAMES/PUZZLES.

It was a perfectly normal storage room, sans hostage.

“What are you doing?” Zoey cried.

I let out a frustrated cry and pushed past her into the den. A fresh wave of pain rippled up my left arm, and I clutched it, grimacing. I couldn’t let pain distract me. Mind over matter. Maybe Zoey was keeping Caelyn somewhere else. That had to be it. Otherwise, Zoey’s parents might’ve discovered Caelyn struggling down here when getting some toilet paper or something.

Zoey spotted my raw, red palm, streaked with dried blood. “What happened to—”

“Where are you keeping her?”

Her mouth went agape for a moment. “Who?”

I clenched my fists to stop myself from trembling. “Don’t play dumb. Where is she?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.” She rubbed her eyes. “I literally just woke up.” I scoffed. A likely excuse. “What? It’s true! I couldn’t fall asleep until like three in the morning. Every time I finally started to drift off, I heard your window slam shut.” She had been watching me. I knew it. “What the hell were you doing, anyway?”

“Oh, you know exactly what I was doing. You made me do it.”

“Um, no, I did not make you let Dylan sneak into your room,” she said bitterly. Dylan was yet another competition she’d lost. I wished he were here—I’d considered texting him from my laptop first, but couldn’t wait. I had to get to Caelyn. Where was she?

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” I said. “I’m talking about the games. About breaking into Kiki’s to start her mom’s car.” Zoey looked at me like my face had morphed into an eggplant. Doubt prickled my mind, but I shook it away. “And what you had me do to Matty, and to Randall’s dad—”

“Whoa, what?” Her eyes widened, realization dawning on her. “I knew it. You did poison those brownies on purpose. And you’re the one who swatted Randall!”

“No! You made me! You made me do all of it!”

She flailed her arms. “I didn’t make you do anything!”

“Yes, you did. You sent me all those instructions, and now you’re trying to frame me—”

“Holy shit, you’re out of your mind.”

“Yeah, that’s what you want everyone to think. That I’m paranoid, right? Mentally unwell—that’s what you told Dylan, right?”

“No—”

“Liar. You’re a liar, and a cheat, and—”

“Oh my God. Why would you even think I’d want to kill Matty? Over what, MortalDusk?” I opened my mouth to retort, then paused. Matty. Just Matty. Like she didn’t even know about Akira.

“Not just MortalDusk…” I started breathing faster, losing my nerve. “The prize money. You said it yourself … You want that money to get out of this hellhole, to get out of going to dental school.”