Chapter Thirteen

Tomás

I saw the rage in Kieran's expression but something else made the hairs at the back of my neck prickle. Concern, compassion, fear? Did Kieran have a heart? I doubted it. He'd just given me a warning about being careful not to be stabbed in the back. His blade would hit that mark, of that, I was sure. Our encounters gave me whiplash.

Family? He thought I had family ties to them because I was stuck in this house? Because of Maddox, I was a Brennan now. Dasher had mentioned the four families. A-listers. But I wasn't a Brennan. Not by blood. I was a Moya. I opened my desk drawer and pulled out the box with Dad and Daniel's rings. The heavy burden weighed on me every day. I should've buried the rings back in Chicago. I should bury them now. Somewhere out in the woods.

My house had burned with everything I owned while I hunkered down in the trailer park like Daniel had ordered me to. When Maddox had gone to see my mother to adopt me, she'd only given him my father's and Daniel's signet rings engraved with La Santa Muerte for me. The rings represented their souls and should've been buried with them. Those rings were a fuck you to me for my failure in avenging them. I'd taken Maddox's protection, his handout. I had wanted it more than I wanted to be with my own mother. I trusted my brother's killer more than I trusted her. There had to be something wrong with me. Maddox had probably left me here to be tortured, to die. And I preferred that to being her pretty face and being used in other ways.

I shoved the rings back in the drawer and dropped on my bed, pulling out my phone. I twirled the pop socket. It was a simple black and white circle, except I'd glued my obol to the back of it. I didn't want the thing anywhere near my skin. It felt wrong to wear the Brennan sigil as if I were one of them. I hadn't tried calling an outside number since I got here. I tried now, calling my mom, and was given a warning that the number failed to connect. I hung up the phone and texted Maddox.

Me: how's my mother?

Wincing, I laid back on the bed feeling all the bruises and abrasions Kieran had left on my body after that fight. I had spent the rest of the afternoon at the infirmary stitching up the back of my head and making sure I didn't have a concussion. The adrenaline had protected me at the onslaught, but once that faded, I had almost passed out. Kieran had slammed me down a rugged incline. It was a miracle I had survived it. My descent ended when I'd slammed my head against an overturned tree. The impact shattered the helmet and had resulted in a deep cut down the back of my head. Something to match the thirteen I had over my ear from the bullet that failed to kill me.

I should keep count of my lives, sure I had to be somewhere near nine already.

I hadn't expected Maddox to answer so quickly, but when my phone pinged, his message flashed on my screen.

Mads: Alive

One word. Just the one.

My mother wasn't the greatest mother, and it may have been her fault, but she was all I had. The last remnant of my past life. I didn't want to think about it anymore. My body too damn tired. I felt myself drifting. Somewhere far off, I heard a door open, whispers. It wasn't until someone pulled a bag over my head that I remembered I hadn't secured the door with the chair.

By that time, it was too late.

I kicked. I flailed. I hit a body. A face. Maybe someone's balls. Grunts and heavy breathing filled the room, apart from my cussing. My heart pounded in my chest. My body still in pain from the game. The cut at the back of my head opened and blood dripped down my neck. Hands were on me. My wrists were bound in zip ties behind me. No warning. No words. No direction. A pair of hands were on me, and I was led down the stairs, then outside. I knew what this was. Kieran and his sore loser friends.

"You bastards are going to pay for this," I hissed out, sucking in oxygen but not getting enough of it in my lungs with the bag over my head. It smelled of old things. Rotten things. Dead things.

Other words came out of my mouth, but they weren't talking back. Once the cool air hit my bare chest, I gave up fighting. I hadn't put on a shirt after Kieran busted into my room, nor had I changed out of my tactical pants. They were still open and hanging low against my hips.

As we walked through the woods, I caught glimpses of light through the fraying fabric of the bag and a peek from underneath. My bare feet trampled the underbrush. Dew had created a cold layer that slipped into my body and made me shiver.

This had to be some hazing bullshit. They couldn't really kill me, could they?

Kieran's warning words played back at me. This wasn't a real school. This was a waiting station of assassins, drug dealers, mafia biding their time until they'd be called back home, or on assignment. As long as I remained on campus, they couldn't kill me.

Didn't mean they couldn't hurt me in other ways.

Not sure how long we walked for, we came upon a group of other people. The first indicator that I'd been right and this was about winning the flag was the sound of Charity crying. That made my blood boil. "You fucking sons of bitches, leave her alone!" I struggled with whoever held me, but got my knees kicked out and I planted on the ground. It wasn't until I heard Dasher's crutches land at my side that I realized this was more fucked up than I thought.

I was hauled to my feet. "Fox!" I screamed. "You son of a—" my words were cut off with a blow to my torso, another to my side. I couldn't bite back the cries rushing out of my throat. I hated them, but I couldn't hide them.

"Leave him alone!" Dasher screamed. "You assholes!"

I heard him grunt as if someone had hit him too. No. Fucking no. Desperation settled in and I tried to suck in the pain and listen. Though I couldn't see, I felt someone brush my shoulder beside me. The way he was leaning into me, I knew it had to be Dasher. Tears were a terrible thing, but they stung my eyes.

"We are invoking the Pharmakos, the sacrifice of a scapegoat." They were using some kind of voiceover so we couldn't identify them.

From beneath the hood, I could see they were wearing the same style of boots and a robe. I couldn't identify any of them by their faces, but I'd been living with them long enough to guess by their height. And there weren't only five of them. The area was filled with candles and people.

I had no clue what the sacrifice meant, but I knew what scapegoat meant. Either we all took the blame for what happened, or one of us did. And it had been my idea. "What right do you have to do this? Because we won?"

"You were deemed cheaters. You did not follow the rules of engagement."

That threw me for a loop and I started to laugh. A hysterical bubbly laugh that had me sucking in hard just to take a breath, the bag making it harder. "There are no rules of engagement in the real world, you psycho bastards!" A blow met my face and I fell on the ground. Dasher had been leaning on me, so he toppled on top of me.

"Tomás," he said. "I'm so sorry."

I hated all of them. Something deeply rooted in my soul. "Don't," I said to Dasher as we were hauled back onto our feet.

"Trickery is judged by the trickster," another voice said.

Charity let out a sob.

"The gods have spoken. Vanity will be made humble. By water, fire, and air, the others will fall."

A chorus chanted the same thing.

"You people are insane!" I said, through the pain.

"Chose your scapegoat or you will all fall," the robotic voice said.

"It was Tomás," Charity cried. "He said I'd be protected."

The words stung. It had been Ashton who promised Charity would be safe, but it had been my plan. I had led the coup and had to take responsibility for it.

"Fuck that, we all agreed," Dasher put in.

"It was his plan, man," Ashton added.

"Dasher, come on." Micah now. And he sounded the way we all sounded. Afraid. Leading by fear apparently worked too. "We all have to agree, or we'll all be exiled."

"No!" Dasher yelled. I could tell he was crying.

I hung my head. Hell, seven months ago I was ready to die via bodyguard. I hadn't wanted to be here. I had nothing. Nick wouldn't miss me. He probably thought I was dead too. The realization that I was alone buried itself so deep inside of me that I saw nothing else.

"Ashton's right. It was my plan. Let them go."

"No!" Dasher screamed. "Fuck them to hell. No!"

I turned to the sound of his voice. "Dasher, come on. We are better than all these fuckers. We know what true sacrifice means. We protect the most vulnerable. Do it for Charity."

She started sobbing harder.

I heard his sniffles for a moment as if he were right there. I'd hug him if I survived this. Not likely.

"Goddammit, okay. Tomás. It was his plan. Fox, I'll never forgive you for this. Ever."

I heard their grunts as the others were moved away from me. I wish I could say that I was brave. That I stood my ground and hadn't pissed myself.

But I'd be lying.