Page 52 of Twisted Little Game

I get up and go with him to the top floor of the house.

He already has his own things, because he brought over his suitcases earlier. But I give him spare clothes from our last Onyx Society fundraiser, as well as towels, toiletries, and clean sheets. I show him the room next door to mine, which is open for this semester, and he looks at it like it's a jail cell even though it’s one of the nicest rooms in this house.

“You’re going to be okay,” I tell him.

He nods, but he won’t look at me. “I’m fine. Forget about what I said. I’m just… tired.”

My room shares a wall with his, and I hear him turn on music in the room next door a few minutes later. The low bass is soothing, coming through the wall, and for a while it grounds me and drowns my thoughts.

But the thing about Onyx House is that I’ve lived here for years, now.

I know every sound these floorboards make.

And when I hear the telltale crack of the loose wood right outside the door of that room, twenty minutes later, and the subsequent sound of someone walking down the stairs, I know Tate’s not going to sleep at all.

I zero in on the sound instantly.

I open my door and step over toward the room beside mine, and I push open the cracked door.

The room is empty.

Tate fucking snuck out.

And something snaps inside me.

When I get downstairs, Hunter and Rayne are in the front room.

“Did the blondin just fucking walk out the front door?” I ask, too rushed and distracted to realize they don’t know what that means. “Tate. Did you see him?”

“Hm?” Hunter asks. “No. It’s just been us here.”

“Is everything okay?” Rayne asks, frowning at me.

“I’m handling it.”

If Tate didn’t go out the front door, he had to have used the backyard. I take off into a jog through the house and push out into the back.

I glance around in the dark. The fire pit is just embers now.

I look over toward the side of the house, noticing the gap in the roses. I take off in that direction. He used that area to try to bolt the first night he got here, and I know he would do it again.

Adrenaline hits when I see a figure in the dark, illuminated only by the moon.

Got you.

Tate is there, at the side of the house, moving fast and making his way toward Red Row. He glances back and I know he sees me.

But he’s fast, too.

I break into a steady run, my muscles activating. I know this house, and the side of the yard, better than Tate does, and that's my only advantage.

He doesn’t know about the small brick row that lines the white roses near the front.

His foot catches on one and he goes down in the grass, his hands coming down in front of him to break his fall.

I seize the opportunity.

I close the gap between us fast, and I drape myself over his body from behind, gripping one of his hands in the grass.