Page 104 of The Devil We Crave
I swallow nervously, shivering again in the cool, dark night.
Where is he?
I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. 12:04.
Still no sign of him.
Frowning, I sit against the edge of the fire pit and thumb my phone open, navigating to the website for Santoro Equities. The second I see that asshole’s smug face at the top of the page, I pull my eyes away with a shudder.
“No phones tonight.”
My heart lurches into my throat as the low, gravelly baritone rumbles from the darkness. I whirl, searching for him, but only find shadows.
“Leave it on the edge of the fire pit.”
I shudder and whip my head around again. I swear, this time his voice came from another direction entirely, but I didn't hear him move at all.
A cold sensation finger-walks up my spine as I set the phone face down on the edge of the fire pit.
“W-where are you?”
“Here.”
I spin again, hearing him from yet another direction. But there’s still nothing there. My gaze vainly tries to pierce the darkness of the ruined fort. The soft sound of the ocean against the cliffs whispers nearby.
“Do you remember your safe word?”
I whirl yet again. This time, when I stop, my scream catches sharply in my chest and my blood turns to ice in my veins.
Achilles is standing right there.
He's shirtless, in black jeans and boots, with the moonlight glinting off the heavily shadowed grooves of his muscled body, making him look like a feral predator, build solely for violence and destruction.
But what really catches my attention are two other details:
One, he’s wearing aScreammask, the ghostly, leering grin looking extra sinister given that he’s half naked, his muscles twitching like an animal's.
And two, he's wearing black gloves, and holding a huge, gleaming, serrated hunting knife.
Eat your fucking heart out, MaskTok.
I swallow thickly, trembling as I stare at him.
“Well?” he growls quietly.
“I remember it. It's thunder,” I breathe, my voice shaking.
He’s silent for another moment. I swear, I can feel his eyes boring into me even through the mask.
“And if you say it?”
I wet my lips. “It ends it,” I whisper.
“Not quite,” his voice rumbles. “It endsallof this. All of you and me.”
I stiffen. “I—I don’t under?—”
“I'm not going to be your experiment, Yelena.” Achilles’ rasping voice slices through the darkness. “I'm not interested in being your tour guide. So yes, there’s an emergency exit. But it comes with a strict no re-admission policy.”
