Page 44 of The October Trials

As I run to Ashvale, I hear the guy start to beg. “D-Dude, it’s me, for fuck’s sake! Your best friend!”

I almost feel sorry for him.

But I don’t. He can rot in hell with the rest of them.

I PUSH THROUGH the side doors, still shaking, the taste of dirt thick on my tongue.

I don’t look at any of them as I cross the dining room. My boots leave faint mud prints on the wood floor, and my chair scrapes loudly against the silence when I pull it out and drop into it.

I’m directly across from the backstabbers.

“Ah.” Archon leans back, a slow smirk spreading. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it. Nice of you to finally join us.” His air of smug arrogance pisses me off.

“Fuck off,” I throw at him.

For a moment, everyone in the room stills, waiting for his reaction. Including myself.

Unexpectedly, his head rears back, delighted laughter spilling out of him. A few guards follow his lead. “Oh wow, I see someone gained her claws.” His eyes glitter. “Something out there must’ve changed you. Aw.”

My teeth ache from how hard they’re grinding together. Does he know?

He can’t know.

Ignoring his clear bait, I shift my gaze around the room, landing on anything other than him. Behave, Blair. You can’t jump across the table and snap his neck right now.

“Wait.” Sloane’s voice is quiet at first, then sharpens after she clears her throat. “No one died this round.” She looks around the table, counting, recounting. “We ended with the same number of people we started with.”

Her head snaps toward me. “She cheated.”

I can’t believe this bitch!

“What’s your fucking problem, huh?” My voice cracks. “First you push me, and now you’re turning on me? We’ve been best friends since freshman year of high school, Sloane. And you’re throwing all of that away for him?”

Her eyes narrow to slits. “You’re right. I pushed you.” She leans forward. “So how are you here and alive right now? Never mind that, you came back all dirtied up! That means someone caught you. But you’re still alive. I don’t need to guess who—”

“Silence!” Archon growls.

But Sloane doesn’t stop. “Eliminate her! She deserves to be gone. She got caught!”

I open my mouth to speak, but it’s like my vocal cords have been yanked out and stepped on. Along with my heart.

Almost eight fucking years of friendship.

“Did anyone hear me? Kill her! She cheated, she got caught—”

Archon’s hand snaps once. A guard materializes from the shadows, gun drawn, the barrel pressing against Sloane’s temple before she can even gasp.

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” Archon grits. “This is my game. My rules. You do not call out orders to my men. I do.”

Sloane’s throat bobs.

“Do you understand me?!” His voice cracks like thunder, filling every corner of the room with its incessant authority.

She flinches, a small, broken sound escaping her throat. “Y-yes, Archon.”

I should feel vindicated. Satisfied, even. But all I feel is hollow.

My gaze drifts to Christian sitting beside Sloane with his arms crossed, his expression utterly bored. He can’t even be bothered to look her way when she’s seconds away from having her brains blown out.