“You’re alive,” Cal repeats as he climbs into the backseat. Barret, surprisingly, takes the passenger one. “Violet…” I finish buckling my seatbelt and glance at him through the rearview mirror. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” I say immediately, ignoring Barret’s huff of disgust. “Cal, do you not remember what happened?”
I pull onto the road and hightail it out of there, no doubt leaving track marks on the asphalt.
“I remember…Barret dying.” He glances at his best friend, as if the sight of Barret physically pains him. “And then I remember crossing through the portal. I was so pissed and upset.” He rakes his fingers through his tousled pink hair. “I was walking back to the academic building when Alex and his fucking father stepped through the portal. I remember that I was furious that they somehow survived when Barret didn’t, and then I recalled how they tried to kill you. I just…snapped, I suppose. I don’t remember anything after that.”
“You fucking killed him,” Barret snaps, and I’ve never heard my gentle giant sound so furious before. His body thrums with pure, undiluted energy, the wispy green strands of his hair standing on end. “You murdered the necromancer.”
“No…” Cal whispers, clutching at his head. “I wouldn’t have killed anyone.”
“You did, asshole. And you didn’t even do it in the games, when it would’ve been legal.” Barret’s hand tightens on the armrest of his chair as his face twists. “And now, you just made Violet an accessory to the murder of a high-profile monster. Which, as you know, is punishable by death.” Barret’s lips compress into a thin line as he faces straight ahead. “You just killed us all.”
Chapter 40
Violet
Only seventy-eight competitors survived the first round of the Roaring.
Seventy-eight.
According to Vin, Hux and Jack made it out of the arena with plenty of time to spare. But when I went to go visit them, they were nowhere to be seen.
I slept restlessly that night, consumed with worry for Hux, Jack, and Cal. My mutt slept at my feet—yes, I claimed the ugly, adorable creature—pitiful cries escaping his fanged mouth, as if he sensed my agitation. He began to cry in earnest when I left him this morning.
Now, I stand once more in the center of steel bleachers as I prepare myself for the next round of the Roaring. Like before, Frankie and Mason stand on either side of me while Vin waits beside his family. I’m grateful to see that Vanessa has survived the first round. As my designated best friend, I sort of have to cheer for her, though I would anyway. I can see how much Vin loves his sister.
I’ll be the first to admit my disappointment that Asshole One and Asshole Two—read as, Vin’s parents—survived as well.
The second game of the Roaring is supposed to test our intelligence, though none of us have any idea what to expect. Last year, they placed the competitors in rooms that were on fire and forced them to find a way to escape. The year before that, they buried each competitor alive and gave them three hours to find a way out.
I scan the throng of competitors anxiously, but I don’t see Hux or Jack anywhere. That only amplifies my tension as I bounce from foot to foot. Are they okay? Did something happen in the arena? I’m desperate to hear Hux’s thick accent whisper, “Precious Treasure.” But, like, not in a creepy way. In a totally romantic and sexy way.
“What happened last night?” Mason whispers conversationally as we wait for Dimitri to once more take his spot on the stage. “When you found Cal?”
Oh, nothing much. Just a little murder and mayhem.
Automatically, my eyes flicker to where Alex stands by himself opposite us. His dark eyes narrow accusingly, and I can’t help but wonder if he knows about what happened to his father. Barret’s confession flitters through my brain like a pair of incessantly flapping butterfly wings, and I stare at the giant in a new light. Why did he help me? Or was that just a ploy? Was he trying to gain Barret’s trust?
Fuck, I’m getting paranoid. Dealing with so many cocks will do that to a lady.
“Welcome!” Dimitri’s cold voice slithers over the assembled crowd. “You are here because you survived the first round of the Roaring.” The audience cheers, pumping their fists and whistling enthusiastically. It’s kind of demented, if you think about it. Half of these monsters lost a family member or a loved one, yet they’re still laughing as if nothing bad had just transpired. As if we hadn’t lost hundreds of lives.
Then again, that’s the monster world. Only the strongest survive, and the weak aren’t even mourned.
“For this round, each competitor will enter a door designed specifically for them.” As if on cue, a door materializes in front of each competitor. All of them are insignificant in appearance, though their colors and shapes vary. Mine has intricate trim around the sides and a hanging flower plant overhead. “Your goal is to exit your room in exactly one hour.” His cold blue eyes train on me, and his devilishly wicked lips quirk to the side. I’m suddenly bombarded with memories of me in his office as he expertly eats me out, his fingers tweaking my nipple.
Totally appropriate thoughts to have when you’re potentially facing imminent death. Way to go, Violet.
“Each room is different,” Dimitri continues, maintaining eye contact. “Nothing you see in your room is a trick. But be warned,” his voice lowers ominously, “you might not like what you hear.”
I know his statement is directed at me, but I can’t quite understand what he means. Is this a hint?
“Be careful, Pinkie,” Mason says seriously, his expression grave. I can tell he doesn’t like the fact that he won’t be able to protect me during this challenge. Honestly? I don’t like that either. Sure, I’m not the most athletic monster, but I can break balls and take names with the best of them. I want to—no, I need to—protect my men, no matter the cost. I’m going insane with worry.
“You may now enter,” Dimitri states, and one by one, the doors fly open.
My heart hammers in my chest as I step through the glittery, silver portal.
“You’re a survivor, Violet,” I whisper fiercely to myself. “You’ll kick the ass of any monster who dares try to harm you. Badass Violet for the win. Your men will be safe. Have faith.”
“Are you talking to yourself again?” a familiar voice drawls, and I blink rapidly to orient myself to my new surroundings. I appear to be in a sparsely furnished room with a single couch against the far wall opposite a coffee table and recliner. There are no windows or doors, and the portal has already dissipated. Sitting lazily, almost languidly, on the couch is none other than Dracula himself.
Opposite him, Dimitri leans against the wall with his arms folded over his chest and his frosty stare freezing me in place.
“Is this real?” I whisper, my back flush against the wall.
“I can assure you that it is.” My father rolls his eyes as he takes a drag of his cigarette. He’s dressed in a black trench coat pulled open over a suit and tie. His dark hair is slicked away from his aristocratic, almost elegant features. In private, my dad can be a little…eccentric, but around other people, he has a tendency to act like a massive douche. His mannerisms change entirely around people. Instead of behaving like the “cool dad,” he turns stoic and cold. I have long since accepted Dracula, no matter the face he wears.