“We don’t know that they’ve hurt anyone, miss,” the other officer, Ferguson, pipes in. The asshole.
Ugh! I want to scream.
“Right now, we’re looking into all possible leads and at all potential suspects. Anyone who may have wanted to hurt your sister. Or anyone else who might have been in the area last night.”
“Those bastards! That’s who was in the area. C’mon, Sheriff Keller, it was them. You and I both know it. Who else in this town would’ve hurt her? No one.”
Sheriff Keller gives Ferguson the side-eye and heaves a tired sigh. “The boys all have alibis for last night, Mackenzie. Everyone except for you.”
All the color drains from my face, and my arm shoots out as I try to find something to steady myself with so I don’t pass out.
No, no, no. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
“I think it’s time for you both to go, Dan,” Mom says quietly, moving toward the front door.
Sheriff Keller’s eyes remain fixed on the oak floors beneath our feet before he murmurs, “Let’s go,” to Ferguson, and they both slip out of the house.
Tears of anger glimmer in my eyes as I stare blankly at the door, trying to figure out how this situation got so colossally fucked up. Mom shuts the front door, and like magnets, my eyes are drawn to her.
A fat, hot tear slides down my cheek when she asks, “Where were you last night, Mackenzie?”
Trent’s hand grasps a lock of my straight jet-black hair, and he rubs it through his fingers, snapping me back to the present. I blink rapidly, trying to rid myself of the moisture building in my eyes over the memory. When I stop blinking, my eyes focus on Trent, and our gazes clash. My hazel to his pine green. I search his gaze, looking for a small inkling of recognition in there, but, instead, all I see is heat and lust. He’s looking at me like he did that night at the bonfire. Only now, I don’t feel any giddiness or glee. Just anger. Pure, unadulterated anger. I mask it, though, not wanting him to see how angry being this close to him—to all of them—makes me.
“I want her,” Trent announces to the rest of the guys in the room. His gaze never once wavers from mine.
Of course, you do.
“Not so fast, buddy. Don’t you think we should let her choose, let them all choose, who they want to hang out with first?” Zach asks, stepping toward us. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him watching me. Closely. Too closely. “What do you say, sweetheart? Anyone, in particular, you want to get to know?”
For a few seconds, I keep my gaze trained on Zach, taking him in. It’s obvious he’s no longer the kid from high school either. He’s taller than I remember, much bulkier, and the manbun he’s sporting is a new addition that only adds to his savage-like features.
I shift my gaze around the room, realizing everyone is watching me. I catch Kat and Vera’s eyes, and they look like they’re holding their breath, waiting for me to decide.
“What’s your name?” someone asks, and I realize it’s Vincent.
I almost say Mackenzie, but something stops me. Instead, I go with, “Scarlett.”
In my peripheral, I see Kat and Vera’s eyes widen at my lie. I glance at them and see the questions written all over Katherine’s face with her brows drawn in, but Vera looks positively giddy, like this is some fun game.
Little does she know, the games haven’t even begun yet. We’re just getting started.
I’m just about to open my mouth and pick who I want to interrogate first when the door to the glass box abruptly opens, and Vincent scoffs.
“Look who finally decided to show up. About fucking time, asshole.”
The responding deep, gravelly chuckle stirs something familiar in me. Slowly, I pivot to glance over my shoulder toward the source. My jaw just about drops when I see who it is.
Well, fuck me.
As fate would have it, my hot one-night stand, Baz King, is the one who walks through the door. Our eyes connect almost instantly, and I watch as his body stiffens, locking every muscle that I touched last night in place. His brows dip, and he darts his gaze around the room, taking in the number of guys and girls. His lips thin almost immediately. A grimace pulls taut across his features.
“See anyone you like, Baz? Trent was already trying to stake his claim on the beautiful Scarlett over here, knowing it’s against the rules.” Zach jerks his head toward me, and my face heats.
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. I’ve just barely gotten up here, and I’m already tangled in a web of fucking lies.
“Can someone please explain what the hell is going on?” Vera finally blurts.
Good God, it took her long enough.
Marcus hops off the couch and prowls toward Vera. “Well, sweetheart. You’ve been invited to our sanctuary. We liked what we saw down there, so if you’re up to it, choose one of us for the night, and if all goes well, we might decide to keep you. If you’re not up to it, the door is right there. Your choice.”
My throat goes excruciatingly dry.
Is that what happened with Madison? They had her—only, they decided not to keep her?
Did they give her the choice to leave?
My hands curl into fists, and anger surges through my veins as I work to control my breathing. I want to lash out at them. I want to hurt each of them and make them pay.
“Cute,” Vera says with an eye roll, raking her gaze along each of them, scrutinizing. “You look like fun and trouble wrapped in a deceiving little package,” she purrs in response to Marcus, who grins as though he just won the fucking lottery.
“Oh, believe me, there is nothing little about my package.”
“We’ll see about that,” she retorts, already following him into the closed-off space. She winks at us over her shoulder, and my stomach drops as I try to wrap my head around what the hell I just got us all into. These guys are possibly murderers, and now, Vera and Kat are going to walk off with them and be trapped somewhere behind a closed door, where I won’t be able to get to them. Where I won’t be able to save them.
“As delicious as you two look, I’m going to politely decline. I’ve already been promised an exceptionally wild night,” Vincent says, gripping a handful of ass that belongs to one of the giggling women. With only six of us left, silence descends on the room. I share a look with Kat, who looks surprisingly nervous, and eye the rest of the guys. Baz is staring at me like he wants to say something. He looks … pissed. Like, somehow, my being here is an issue for him. Or maybe it’s the fact that he thinks I lied to him last night about who I was. Trent is watching me like a predator would its prey, and Zach is glaring daggers at me. I don’t know what the fuck I just walked into, but chances are it can’t be good.
“Do the drapes match the carpet?” Zach asks Kat. She rolls her eyes.
“How original.”
He laughs, snaking his arm around the other giggling girl before retreating the same way Vera, Marcus, and Vincent did.
“Scarlett, is it?” Baz addresses me, and I try to hide my flinch at the disgusted way he says my name. “Want to go somewhere and talk?”
I’m about to open my mouth and acquiesce, when Trent cuts in, a dark glare shadowing his features. “No.”
A stare off ensues. Testosterone against testosterone.