“So that makes the firefly lake our first date and this one our second.”
“A date happens in a restaurant or a fun place where I wouldn’t feel on the edge every second.”
“Aren’t those the type of dates boring couples who have to fake orgasms for each other go to? Besides, you had fun both times. Don’t attempt denying it.”
“Oh yeah, being threatened all the time is so fun.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t acting difficult, so maybe you’re the one who’s blocking yourself from having fun.”
“I can’t believe this. So it’s my fault now?”
“I didn’t say that.” He grins. “You did.”
The audacity of this bastard is seriously out of this world. Just when I’m thinking about the best insult to come up with, we reach a clearing. A vast piece of land covered by grass comes into view and in the distance sits a small building.
The security building that if we reach, we win.
Killian doesn’t seem focused on that, and I suppress the feeling of desperation as we continue walking at a steady pace.
I’m pretty sure he can smell any change of emotions like some human dog. Just because he doesn’t feel emotions like the rest of us doesn’t mean he can’t recognize them or even understand them.
If there’s anything I’ve learned about Killian, it’s the fact that he’s a well-adjusted psychopath. He has immense impulse control, and is calculative to a fault.
There may have been a time in his past where he lost that control like Lan sometimes does, but they can both adapt so well to the circumstances and fuse themselves within society as if they belong.
And the more they live, the harder it is to reach inside their sturdy bubble. It’s more impossible to make them lose control once they’ve mastered it.
Since they’re constantly in control, they observe everything. Killian might seem detached, but he has hawk-like observational skills. Nothing escapes him.
So I try my best to remain nonchalant and tune out the sound of eliminated numbers being announced all around us.
“Who owns this place?” I ask, and do one heck of a job of sounding normal.
“We all do. It’s a gift from campus because our parents donate a shitload of money to the institution.”
“I assume the ‘we’ are you, Jeremy, Nikolai, and Gareth?”
“Correct.”
“Who’s the one behind the fifth mask?”
“No one you should concern yourself with.”
“Do you always dance around the subject when you don’t want to answer the question?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, why should I be?”
I steal a peek at the building in front of us. Two meters. No, probably one and a half.
Killian stops, but I pretend not to noticed and continue ahead. Yes, the members of the group are monstrous, judging by what I witnessed today, but I’m done being scared and hiding.
If I’m in their inner circle, I’ll be able to figure out what happened to Devlin and— Something touches my shoulder and I freeze as the speaker echoes around us, “Number sixty-nine eliminated.”
I swing back to stare at Killian, who just tapped me with his bat.
“You think I haven’t figured out what you’re up to, little rabbit?”
“Why…you…you…”
“Deep breaths.” The amusement in his voice pisses me the hell off. “That’s it. We don’t want you to somehow have a stroke when you’re this young.”
“Why have you waited until now to eliminate me?”
He lifts a shoulder. “It was fun watching you trying to distract me and acting like an amateur in a B-class spy movie. You should look at your adorable face.” He retrieves his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture. “Now, I’ll keep this expression with me forever.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“I’ll kiss you in the meantime.”
I’m about to grab his stupid bat and lunge it at his head when the door of the security house opens behind me.
“Killer!”
Wait, what? A killer?
It takes me a second to realize that the feminine voice was directing that nickname at Killian.
A tall, slim figure steps out, wearing white mask number one. Straight blonde hair falls to her bare shoulders and she’s wearing a skin-tight strapless top that accentuates her hourglass waist.
She pulls the mask away from her face and I freeze at how stunning she is. Like a model or an actress or both.
And when she smiles, it’s so blinding that I have trouble looking directly at her.
She subtly pushes me away and throws herself at Killian, wrapping her arms around his neck with the ease of someone who’s done this countless times.
“I missed you,” she murmurs, and then her lips meet his.
18
GLYNDON
I stare at the scene, dumbfounded.
You know that moment when you freeze up and have no idea whether moving or even breathing is okay?
Actually, screw it.
The prominent emotion that tears through my chest isn’t feeling like a third wheel or being slammed in the face by PDA—it’s something worse.
A burst of energy slashes through my veins so similar to…rage.
I swear I’m not the jealous type.
In secondary school, I found my boyfriend making out with my classmate and just closed the door and broke up with him via text.
I don’t feel any resentment toward Bran for being Mum’s favorite, for being the vessel of her talent. Nor for the fact that she goes the extra mile in her attempts to protect him from Lan.
I also have no resentment toward Lan for getting all the attention in our family. Or toward Ava for looking like a goddess and being perfect at everything she does. Or Cecily for being the most balanced human I know.
In short, I don’t feel jealous.
So why the hell do I feel the need to dig myself a hole in the ground and disappear in it?
It’s not jealousy. I refuse to categorize it as such. Because if I’m jealous, it means I care, and that’s not close to possible.
I even came up with the proper explanation for it with that suspension bridge effect theory.
That one makes sense. This whole situation doesn’t.
The leggy blonde all but thrusts her tongue against Killian’s lips. I know because I can see it being stopped by said lips—closed lips, thinned-into-a-line lips.
If it were me, clearly rejected like that, I would dig that hole deeper and vanish farther in it. Maybe bury myself alive while I’m at it, too. However, the blonde doesn’t stop and even goes on to bite his lower lip.
Instead of asking for a kiss—she’s demanding it.
Unable to keep looking, I stare at the ground, my eyes blurry and my ears so hot, I think they’ll explode. Is there an exit somewhere? Maybe it’s on the other end of the house?
In my peripheral vision, I make out Killian’s hand shooting out, grabbing the girl by the hair, and wrenching her away from him. Then he steps back, letting his hand fall to his side.