Chapter 25
The tequila hits hard as I stumble through the garden maze. Everything's spinning—the high hedges, the stone path, the night sky above. I call out for Amanda, but my voice echoes back strange and distorted. Bass from the party vibrates through my boots, making it harder to walk straight.
Moonlight spills over the hedges, casting weird shadows. The garden smells like rain and rich people's money—nothing like home. Nothing like the wild grass and dirt of the trailer park.
I almost walk right past her. Amanda sits on a stone bench, her face lit blue by her phone. Even wasted, she looks like she belongs here, all perfect posture and expensive grace.
"There you are." I sink down next to her, grateful for something solid.
"Why are you out here? You should go back inside." She doesn't look up. "Brody likes you. Anyone can see it."
I laugh, bitter and drunk. Doesn’t she know him better than I do? I mutter, "He's just using me. Don’t you see that?"
"No." She turns to me, mascara smudged but eyes clear. "I know him. He's different with you."
The alcohol loosens my tongue. "It has something to do with my father. It’s not even for me." I raise my eyebrows.
She grins. "Welcome to our world."
I spit a laugh. "I’m being blackmailed and used. My mom is in––forget it," I sigh. "Everything's so messed up."
She falls against me, smelling like vodka and Chanel. "Tell me about it, but that’s why we're here and drunk." She smiles, dropping her head to my shoulder. "Let’s forget our problems… just for the night."
"I’ve never been this drunk before." The words feel heavy. "Where even are we?"
She giggles, "At a Reaper party. I think we became best friends tonight."
"Shit… a Reaper party? This isn’t good. It’s not a good place."
Then the garden goes quiet. Even the party sounds fade away. Amanda freezes. "Do you hear that?"
The crunch of gravel makes Amanda rigid. "Tell me you fucking heard that."
My alcohol-soaked brain takes too long to process the sound of footsteps. Through the dark archway of hedges, a figure emerges—wrong height, wrong stance. Not Brody's mask, but one I've seen before.
Amanda's gone before I can process what’s happening, the click of her boots fading into the maze. Each step takes her further away until there's nothing but silence and moonlight and me.
And Jack.
"Where are you going?" I ask Amanda, but she’s gone. "Come back!"
"Well, well… hello, Lola." My name in his mouth sounds like a promise of violence. "All alone in the garden?"
"No, my friend––"
He smiles. "Left you alone in this garden."
I try to stand but the tequila makes everything tilt. The stone bench holds me prisoner as he moves closer, each step measured and deliberate.
"You made a very big mistake, Duchess." His mask catches the moonlight. "I offered you protection. Instead, you chose him." He's close enough now that I smell copper and expensive cologne. "Your boyfriend can't save you from what's coming."
"I don't—" My tongue feels thick, useless. "I don't have a boyfriend."
But the words don't matter. What matters is that I'm alone in this maze with a man who knows how to make people scream. And no one can hear me over the music that is in fact still loud in the distance.
I continue, slurred words and all, "And you pulled a gun on me, told me I had to fuck you to get that protection. I wouldn’t say I made a very big mistake, Jackass."
His smile turns wicked. "Baby girl––"
"Does the deal still stand?" I ask, wondering which direction this is going to go.
His lips twitch. "Well, looks like you’re learning how to play, little mouse."
I smile. "If I’m the mouse then you’re the pussy?"
His laughs. "Got me there."
He watches me closely, and I’m so drunk I can barely comprehend what’s even being said. I search my memory for what I’m supposed to be doing tonight, and that is: taking these motherfuckers down. Wait, my mom is in a trunk somewhere. I inhale. I have to get my shit together.
"If you want me to protect you tonight, get on your fucking knees," he whispers.
I stare up into his eyes. He’s hot and tall, covered in tattoos that burn in my memory, but his face isn’t as nice as Brody’s. Plus he has a shitty, entitled attitude. Such a turn off. Too bad. And he can’t be serious, asking me to get on my knees. What is it with fucking my mouth? I don’t have lip fillers. I would say I have fuckable lips, but goddamn, they all want the wrong hole.
I shake my head. "First, you need to tell me what you’re protecting me from because from where I’m standing… it’s all seeming to be a bit premature."
"Your father––"
I bend over and start laughing. "Oh my God. What is the fascination with him? He’s not all that special. Actually, you can have him. I don’t care." I throw my arms in the air, being theatrical with it.
I reach into my purse as I’m bending over and grab my pellet gun. In one swift move, I aim it at his face. "I’m so sorry, Jackass. I just don’t believe a goddamn thing that comes out of your mouth."
He breaks into a deep laugh, finding this genuinely funny. "You gonna fucking shoot me with a pellet gun?"
I nod. "Right in your fucking eye, asshole."
We stand, staring at each other for a moment. I wish Amanda would run back in this direction to save me from what’s about to unfold. I don’t want to shoot him in the eye, but I will if I have to. If he keeps fucking testing me.
A nervous laugh comes from behind Jack. "What do we have here?" Caleb asks, rounding the corner. I flinch at the sight of another Reaper. I don’t know what’s going to happen now that there’s two of them. Caleb’s glancing between the both of us as Jack stands still and I’m on high alert, ready to shoot both these fuckers.
Caleb shakes his head, clicking his tongue. "This isn’t a good look for you, Jack. What the fuck are you doing?"
I answer, "Telling me to get on my knees."
Jack whistles, pointing at me. "Way to turn things around, Duchess. I only said to get on your knees if you wanted my help."
I point the gun at him harder. "Don’t fucking call me that!"
Jack says, "Put that fucking thing away, Lola. We’re just talking."
I turn to Caleb. "Where the fuck is Brody?"
"I’ll take you to him," Caleb answers.
I watch him, not knowing if I can trust him. Truth is, I don’t trust any of these fucking Reapers.
My phone notification dings from my purse. We all look down at it.
"Lola," Jack says, walking closer to me. "Put it down. I know you don’t want to hurt me, you’re just scared." He smiles. "And drunk."
He walks closer until the pellet gun is on his chest. My fingers clutch onto it like a lifeline, scared of what he’s going to do to me.
Caleb says, "Brody is looking for you, Lola. He just went the other way."
"Remember what I said, Lola," Jack says, so I glance at him. He’s towering over me, completely not afraid of my amateur move. This pellet gun. "You’re on the wrong team."
"Stop with the fucking riddles, Jack," I whisper and push the gun higher on his chest. "I don’t fucking like the games."
He leans in, "Your boyfriend will take care of you."
I aim the pellet gun at his cheek and he smiles at me. I wish Caleb wasn’t here otherwise, I’d shoot Jack and strangle him with my plastic bag. I glance at Caleb who’s watching us. He ruined everything.
"What the fuck do we have here?" Brody's voice cuts through the garden like a blade.
Amanda cowers behind him, suddenly sober, her eyes locked on what's in front of her. Everything's still spinning, but the fear in her face is crystal clear.
"I thought I told you to leave her alone." Brody's voice drops low, dangerous.
"We were just having a chat." Jack keeps his eyes on mine. "Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess."
The word hangs in the air for a heartbeat before Brody moves. "What the fuck did you just call her?"
It happens fast—Brody's fist connecting with Jack's jaw, the sick crack of bone on bone. They crash into the hedges, a tangle of limbs and rage. Caleb tries to separate them, but Brody shoves him away, unleashing punch after punch into Jack's face. Jack gets his own hits in, blood spraying with each connection.
Amanda screams somewhere behind me, but I can't look away. These men—these monsters in expensive clothes—are fighting over… me. Or because of me. The distinction feels important, but my drunk brain can't grasp why.
Brody's forehead smashes into Jack's face. Jack crumples, strings cut.
"You killed him!" Amanda's voice rises hysterically. She screams. "You just fucking killed him!"
"Shut the fuck up, Amanda." Brody wipes blood from his mouth. "Caleb."
They drag Jack's limp body behind the bench, laying him in the grass like some twisted garden sculpture. Caleb pats him down, finding a gun that makes my stomach turn.
"Here." Brody holds the weapon out to me. "Take it."
"Are you insane?" Caleb hisses.
"Who's gonna search her?" Brody's eyes lock with mine. "Duchess?"
The gun hangs between us like a test. He's either setting me up or... trusting me. The way he watches me, intensity cutting through the blood on his face.
He keeps eye contact, his gaze softening––it hits my gut first. This is trust.
I take the gun, sliding it into my bag next to my own weapon. We're all playing games tonight.
"He won't be out long." Brody's fingers wrap around my wrist, pulling me away from Jack's unconscious form. The gun weighs heavy in my bag, full of questions I'm too drunk to ask. Is Brody protecting me or playing me? Every riddle, every warning circles in my head like a broken record.
Back in the mansion's heat and noise, Amanda pulls me toward the bar. "I need to forget that happened." She pours shots with shaking hands. The tequila burns away the garden's darkness.
We lose ourselves on the dance floor, letting the bass drown out everything else. Amanda presses against me, her lips brushing my ear. "Caleb's watching us."
I follow her gaze. Caleb leans against the wall, that dangerous grace all the Reapers share. "Watching you. You should go for it," I tell her. "He's hot."
"Not Brody-hot," she giggles, "but I'll take it."
The night dissolves into flashing lights and pounding music. The guys join us, and Brody's hands find my hips. The alcohol makes everything feel dream-like, until Jack appears in the doorway.
He looks right through us, face already bruising, and disappears around the corner. My heart stutters, but Brody turns my face to his.
His kiss tastes like blood and victory. I should be terrified of what that means, but his hands are steady on my waist and the gun sits ready in my bag. He was right about what he said in the hallway earlier. Tonight is fun.
Amanda throws me a knowing look before disappearing down the hall with Caleb. The party’s dying just scattered groups of drunk students and the heavy aftermath of bass in the air. Brody's hand finds mine, leading me deeper into the mansion's maze of hallways.
"Where're we going?" I press my face against his chest, everything still spinning pleasantly. His cologne mixes with the metallic hint of blood from the fight.
He guides me into a room I've never seen, moonlight spilling across a pool table. Brody sits on the green felt, and even with his knees bent, he towers over me. I pull his face down to mine, drunk enough to be brave.
"Miss me?" I ask as the words ghost across his lips.
His teeth catch my bottom lip, followed by his tongue. "Want to feel how much?"
My hand slides down his chest, finding him hard through his jeans. The alcohol makes me bold, reckless. I want him here, now, consequences be damned.
"Glad you came tonight." His voice sounds different, distant.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." His eyes shift over my shoulder, just slightly.
My stomach drops. Before I can turn, fabric covers my face. Chemical sweetness fills my lungs. I feel Brody's hands on me—steadying or restraining, I can't tell anymore.
"Brody!" His name comes out muffled, desperate.
The world fades to black, and my last thought is that I should have known better than to trust a monster in a mask.