Max Dread
I woke up in Quinn’s bed, blinking to clear the weird dream from my head.
I’d been on a mountaintop fighting some creepy guy with six fingers on his hand.
It was weird as fuck.
My heart pounded in my chest as words I kept repeating in the dream replayed in my head.
He killed her, and he needed to die.
I searched for the chain around my neck, pulling out the pendant I’d been given as a boy.
My prize for a choice I’d never wanted to make.
But it was only a dream. Some weird mashup of Quinn’s book morphed by my overtired brain in sleep.
She was still alive.
I’d know if she wasn’t. I’d feel it. And I’d hear from that bastard as soon as she was gone, either way.
My phone buzzed on the mattress beside me, as if cued by my thoughts. I narrowed my gaze at the screen.
My father.
Another thorn in my side, making demands for attention.
Unable to shake the dream, I swiped to answer instead of sending him to voicemail a few times first. “What?”
“You’ve been ignoring my calls, Maxwell.”
“I’ve been busy, Dad. Or did you forget I’m in the middle of The Quest? Stuck playing babysitter to your darling King and his bestie.”
He sighed like he always did. “Any concerns?”
“No, or I would’ve called you.”
I practically heard his hackles rise on the other end of the line. “If you’re hiding things from me, Max, there will be consequences. I’m already dealing with a lot of pushback about this plan . Questions from V?—”
“Don’t you fucking dare.”
“Excuse me?”
I growled, seething. My grip threatened to break the phone in half. “Don’t you fucking dare say her name to me.”
Another sigh. My reaction earned nothing more, even after what she’d done. “This isn’t why I called. So, if you can stop acting like a child and listen, we can move forward.”
“What now?”
“She’s not doing well. They think?—”
“I got it.” I snapped. “Call me when there’s actual news.”
I hung up the phone before throwing it across the room.Then I stomped over to make sure I hadn’t broken the damn thing.
It couldn’t happen now. I needed more time.
I needed my?—
But did it matter? Had it ever?
No.
My past failures were slowly catching up with me.
What happened last year—what I’d allowed to happen—because of fear. I couldn’t escape it. Confronted by the ticking clock, it constantly reminded me that time was running out. A threat, darker than the rest, would be arriving soon, demanding what I’d agreed to before I knew...
Before her .
Back when I’d thought hope had completely run out.
Now, the price of refusing—the price of a single word—would cost as much as holding up my end of the deal.
I wanted to tell her.
I wanted to admit what I’d done and ask for?—
But had that gotten me anywhere so far?
No.
So, could I risk letting Quinn pay for my mistakes?
Not if my life depended on it.