These Deadly Games(77)

Was I sacrificing mine? Was I really willing to plunge a blade into another human being if it meant keeping my sister alive?

I hadn’t shoved Akira off that cliff. I never meant for her to fall. I hadn’t given up my humanity then. And I wouldn’t now. I could never stab Zoey.

But she didn’t need to know that.

“Just give me the phone, okay?” I extended one hand toward her, raising the knife higher.

Her eyes widened, and her thumb moved over the screen.

“Don’t!” I lunged, feigning a strike, and she shrieked and dropped the phone. It clattered on the tile floor.

Zoey crouched and covered her head with shaking hands. “No!” She must’ve really thought I’d do it.

“Jesus,” I muttered, picking up the phone. She hadn’t placed the call. I powered off the phone and slipped it into my back pocket, under my coat.

“Please. Please don’t kill me.” Zoey’s voice was strained. “I won’t tell anyone what you did. I promise. I promise.”

I gaped as she knelt there, trembling and helpless, cheeks streaked with tears. “You really don’t believe me. You really think I killed our friends on purpose.”

“You’re literally waving a knife at me!” Zoey cried. “And I don’t see anyone with a gun to your head.”

Fair point. Before, when An0nym0us1 had eyes on me, I had to follow their instructions within their time limits. But now I was calling the shots. My stomach twisted. “I had to stop you from calling the police…”

This was exactly what An0nym0us1 wanted, wasn’t it? To turn me into a monster. To frame me for killing my friends. But Caelyn was out there somewhere, and she knew the truth. She’d tell the police how someone was holding her hostage. She’d clear my name.

“Do you know anyone called Lance Burdly?” I asked.

Zoey screwed up her face. “No—”

“Think harder!” I shouted. “You’ve never heard that name before?”

She flinched, then she hesitated. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

I let out a frustrated huff. “Sanchez mentioned him at the hospital. When Caelyn’s kidnapper made me call in the fake tip, they sent me a script, and I had to use a voice changer and pretend to be some dude named Lance Burdly.” Zoey looked skeptical, but I went on, “I couldn’t find anything about him online. I thought, I dunno, maybe his name was a clue or something.”

“Can’t the police look it up in their database or whatever?”

“I told you, I can’t call the police.” Zoey didn’t get it—the constant fear of keeping this secret, or else.

Or maybe she did. Maybe this was akin to keeping our secret about Brady, tortured by it all these years. Gah, I couldn’t think about that now—

Taking advantage of my momentary distraction, Zoey scrambled to her feet and dashed around the corner into the dining room. “Stop!” I chased her into the foyer, and as she started opening the front door, I hurled into it, slamming it shut, making pain flame in my wrist. I was blocking her path to the main staircase, so she dodged past me and down the basement stairs, pulling the door closed behind her.

“Zoey!” I banged on the door. There were no exits down there, but was there a landline? “Don’t call the police!” But I didn’t have time to beg. It would take seconds for her to reach a phone and call the cops. Even if I made her hang up before she could explain, they’d hear the distress in her voice and easily locate us. An0nym0us1 would hear the dispatcher send a cop over on the police scanner.

Zoey was going to kill my sister.

Knowing my luck, trying to kick down the door would break my ankle instead. Desperate, I twisted the knob—oh, and it opened. There was no lock. D’oh. Zoey yelped at the bottom of the stairs.

As I plunged downstairs, she raced toward the creepy storage room, and I wound back my arm as though poised to throw the knife at her, just like I would in MortalDusk. “Stop!”

She froze, eyes bugging as she took in my stance, and raised her hands. “Please! Don’t!”

I scanned the walls for a phone, then nodded toward the storage closet. “Is there a phone in there?”

“N-no!”

“Oh.” She came down here to hide from me. That’s all. I lowered the knife and let out a shaky sigh. “I … I know this looks bad—”

“It looks horrific!” she screamed.

I winced. “Well, I don’t know how to convince you I’m telling the truth!” I needed to find An0nym0us1, or at least some way to reach them, without Zoey calling the cops. What the hell should I do about her? She’d call them as soon as I left. I couldn’t bring her with me; she’d bolt down the street and cry for help the moment we stepped outside. And the basement door had no lock.

An image of Caelyn tied and bound flashed through my mind. I had to save her. I had to do whatever it took.

I swung open the creepy door. “Get in.”

“What?”

I brandished the knife at her. “Get in.”

She scrambled into the storage room, and I pointed to the old rocking chair. “Sit.” She sat gingerly, without taking her eyes from the knife. The door didn’t have a lock. I’d have to tie her up somehow. But with what? I scanned the shelves lined with tools and boxes of household and gardening supplies. Was there rope anywhere?