How cruel would I be to anyone who took everything I loved away from me? As inhumanly as humanly possible. I would turn into a hurricane destroying everything in my path. I wouldn’t be able to see past my hate because if I let it go for a second, the loss would overwhelm me. I would have no choice but to hate.
I can understand why Phoenix wants to hurt us and anyone associated with anyone who took so much from her.
I can understand, but it’s why I’m willing to fight so hard to not lose those I love. I know who and what I would become if I did—a monster.
I nod to Zeke as I sit next to him.
It’s time to end this.
Our cards are dealt between the three of us. At the start, it was everyone against us, but we prevailed, and now we have the upper-hand. We outnumber him.
I look at my cards. For a while, I didn’t even read the dares. It didn’t matter what the cards said. I would do whatever it takes to win.
But one look at Zeke, and I realized it mattered. If I won a hand, I would spare Zeke from having to see me tortured or undressed.
This is the final round.
Either Zeke or I win, or they do.
I see several face cards, and I see a new card I haven’t seen before.
I hold that card closer to my face and read slowly.
To win, you must sacrifice a part of yourself—your voice. Play the card, sacrifice yourself, and you win.
I look over at Zeke. His head is buried in one of his cards as he studies it closer, reading the words over and over. He has a version of this card too. The other man must have a similar card too, but we already know he won’t play it.
Give up my voice? What does that even mean?
My heart races, thundering rapidly like a drum pounding through my body.
What does Zeke have to give up?
What do we do?
The game begins as usual.
The other man at our table has higher cards. I’m out of anything but the sacrifice card. I look to Zeke, and from his gaze, it seems he’s in the same position.
We have to win.
There is nothing left to do but sacrifice everything. We both play our cards and hope to hell it’s enough to save Atlas.
11
Beckett
Finally, I’ve made it to the last table.
It’s down to two—me and Corbin.
I was surprised he showed his face, even more surprised to see that he entered the game. And he, unlike the rest of his minions entered in the game, even did one of the dares he bet. It cost him his pretty face getting marred, swollen, and bloodied up.
It’s that same face now that’s dripping with blood that stands between me and saving Declan. He’s the one remaining wall to possibly earning forgiveness for losing Rose and Atlas—not that I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.
I’ll win.
It’s not about having the cards. It’s about willing to bet everything. It’s about being willing to endure the most pain, suffer the most without fear. That’s how you win this game.
That’s something I have plenty of. Losing an arm will teach you a thing or two about pain.
My concern isn’t about how much more I can endure. Sure, there is blood dripping down my forehead and seeping into my eye, making it hard to see. And yes, my ears are ringing and haven’t stopped for hours now. I have gashes all over my back. My cock doesn’t want to be touched ever again. I’m pretty sure I can’t have children after the beating my balls took.
But that’s nothing.
My concern is what happens after I win. Will I actually get Declan? Or is Corbin not going to keep his promise? Is he going to find a way to disqualify me? Is this all a ruse to keep us at specific locations while they move the kids to someplace we will never find them?
The only way to find out is to finish the game.
Cards are dealt one by one to Corbin and me.
Neither of us looks at the cards. We glare at each other like this is a staring contest instead of a fucked up game where lives are hanging in the balance.
Finally, we both pick up our cards one by one. I have a few face cards, a two, and an ace. Then I pick up the last card.
This one is different than any of the cards I’ve previously gotten. ‘Sacrifice Card’ is written across the top.
I don’t always read the bets, knowing there is nothing I wouldn’t do to rescue Declan, but this card I read.
To win, you must sacrifice a part of yourself—your ability to feel and touch. Play the card, sacrifice yourself, and you win.
I look up at Corbin, who is grinning at me wickedly. No doubt he doesn’t have a sacrifice card. That’s what this has all been about—making us do the most ridiculous things, show how terribly we are suffering, then really make us hurt.
I’m afraid it’s a trick. Even if we win, the kids might not simply be returned to us like they say. What choice do I have, though?
Corbin bets, then it’s my turn.
I immediately go all in, including the sacrifice card. I’m tired of the games.
I either win and get Declan, or I lose and fight this motherfucker to the death. Either way is fine with me because either way, I’ll win. I don’t accept defeat.
I smirk at Corbin as I go all in, and his eyebrows jump up a second in shock. He didn’t think I’d play the sacrifice card. He didn’t think I’d be willing to go that far. He thinks pain scares me. He has no idea that losing my family is the only thing that scares me.
My ability to feel and touch—I’m not sure what that means, but I’ve lost a limb already. I can handle losing any physical part of my body. I have no problem adapting. Whatever it means, I’ll give it up.
“Your loss,” Corbin says.
“As long as I get the kid, I don’t care what you do to me.”
12
Liesel
“I hate you,” I say as I stand in the center of the stage, looking out at Langston.
The crowd chuckles, thinking I truly hate Langston. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Even when I hated him, I still loved him. He’s a drug I can’t give up.
Right now, I wish he hated me. He could ruin everything if he prevents my sacrifice.
His limits have been pushed about what he can handle me enduring and what he can’t. So far, he’s stayed on the sidelines watching but not trying to stop the price I had to pay for losing each round.
I’ve seen every vein in his head pop, I’ve seen his muscles flex with the need to step in, I’ve seen his face redden as he held his breath to keep his ass in his seat instead of throwing me over his shoulder and getting me the fuck out of here.
This round will test him more than I think he can handle.
I’m standing naked on the little stage. I lost my clothes after the last round, as did Langston.
Anyone else standing in my place might be trembling in fear. Goosebumps would have surely formed. Their hearts would have sped to an ungodly speed or slowed beyond detection.
For me, the only thing my body feels is Langston all the way across the room. His eyes sparkle with his love even from there. How foolish was I to try and stop us from loving each other all these years? Why did I let him hate me? Why not demand his love all those years ago when we were five years old?