Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Seth?” I ask, Matteo and I rushing to help him to his feet. “They did something to keep us in here.”
“No fucking shit.” Seth groans.
My gaze shifts to Malcom, who’s keying away on his phone. “Fuck,” I mutter. “What are you doing, Malcom?”
He turns to me, his eyes black.
Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Just letting the guys know you’re here,” he says stoically. “I think everybody wants to play tonight.”
Holy shit. That thing is controlling more than just the Saints. What if he’s got the whole damn house?
Seth pulls his phone out of his pocket, quickly texting the guys. “Fuck it,” he says, rushing for the door. He pulls back the rug, revealing a line of salt at the doorway just as Luke, Brad, and Cody step onto the second floor from the stairwell.
“It’s a fucking trap!” Seth calls out to them.
Cody, Brad, and Luke spin around and start back down the hall, but that familiar sound rings through the air as they fly back up the stairs, hitting the wall and dropping to the floor. The Saints must have rigged the whole fucking place.
A door opens and Preston steps out, approaching quickly.
Seth doesn’t waste time. “Preston, back—” He chokes on the word, straining to speak as his face turns red, veins pushing forward. He struggles as though resisting some invisible person who has him by the throat.
As Preston nears, he raises his hand. He’s clearly using some sort of power to prevent Seth from pushing on him.
Matteo and I try to pull Seth out of the doorway, but he’s locked in place. And as Seth’s eyes glaze over, his eyelids lowering, Matteo and I exchange a worried look, knowing damn well we’re fucked.
23
MATTEO
I struggle in my restraints as Gage shoves me to my knees on the cement floor of their basement—an unfinished renovation of 2x4s, plywood, and what looks like a newly constructed area intended to eventually be a bar. Seth is beside me, and two Alpha Alpha Mus push Brad and Alexei next to us, Brad to my side and Alexei between Seth and me.
We’re all bound in zip ties, but because they must know how effective Seth’s power would be against them, they also have a bit gag in Seth’s mouth to prevent him from speaking. Guess this thing inside Finnegan is benefiting from either a frat’s kink or just standard Alpha Alpha Mu hazing paraphernalia. Our captors yank our arms back, adding another restraint around our wrists as they bind us to the posts of a tool rack along the wall.
A crowd of black-eyed frats pack the basement. Most are only in pajama bottoms or their underwear, but at some point after capturing us, Preston, Gage, and Spencer donned cloaks like the ones I saw in my vision after touching Cody.
Gage takes Luke from two of the frats, while Spencer and Preston keep hold of Cody, who glances around in a daze, like they did something to him.
Another cloaked figure pushes through the crowd. I assume I know who it is even before he removes the hood of the cloak, revealing that familiar face with those distinctive scars. His eyes are black like when I saw him outside the cafeteria.
“Keep Luke away from Brad,” Finnegan—or Syphor, I guess—says, his voice deeper than I’m used to.
Alexei, bound to the tool rack at my side, wears a guilty expression; Syphor is using against us the intel he provided the Saints with.
Gage pulls Luke over to the unfinished wall and binds him to the support beams.
“Get Cody on the bar,” Syphor orders.
Seth battles his restraints, but the rack is too sturdy for us to break away from.
Spencer and Preston effortlessly lift Cody and lay him across the bar. Binding his wrists over his head, Preston pins him down.
“Why are you doing this?” Cody manages to ask, despite how out of it he looks.
I can’t help wondering if it’s out of genuine interest or if he’s trying to buy time. Maybe a bit of both.
“Is this about that creature that got out last semester?” he adds. “Are you responsible for that?”
Syphor approaches him and rests his hand against Cody’s cheek before trailing it down his body in a way that looks sexual, violating.
Seth loses his mind, rattling the whole rack as he strains with his gag, and even with it on, I swear he’s saying, “I will fucking end you!”
“Oh, yes, this is the one,” Syphor tells Preston. “He’s the most powerful.”
“Is that what you want? Power?” Brad asks.
Syphor snickers, and it seems like he might not answer his questions either, but then he says, “We all want power, Bradley. Everything sentient needs power to live. And craves more.”
I notice Alexei shift about, and as I turn slightly, I see he’s got his hand close to his pocket, trying to get something out. His pocketknife? They took our phones, but maybe they missed it when they performed their quick searches on all of us.