Sawyer #2
Seven pair of eyes locked on the serpent that coiled around my right wrist. Same jagged scales. Same diamond-shaped head poised to strike. I felt the blood drain from my face. The snake on the fortune was an exact replica of the one coiled around my wrist.
“Nah, no way,” I said, playing dumb. “It’s coincidence. Chinese place. Snakes are, like…a thing here. Serpents. Whatever.”
Cade let out a low whistle. “That’s not just similar. That’s identical.”
They matched. There was no denying it.
“It’s bullshit,” I snapped, yanking my arm away. “Probably a stupid prank by some bored kid in the back room trying to freak us out.”
But even as I said the words, I couldn’t quite believe them. The resemblance was uncanny. Too specific to be a coincidence. The tattoo artist had worked from my original sketch, and no one had that exact design. No one.
“Maybe the restaurant has cameras,” Brody suggested, looking around the ceiling. “They saw the tattoo when we came in and made a special fortune.”
It was a rational explanation, but something about it didn’t sit right. The paper looked old, the ink faded. Not something whipped up in the kitchen while we were eating.
No one was buying it.
“Fortune cookies are sealed at the factory,” Hunter said, like this was court testimony. “You don’t just slip something in. And no way someone could have known which one Sawyer would pick.”
“What does it mean?” Dex finally asked, his voice smaller than usual. “Beware the hex that divides the fusion.”
The guys exchanged uneasy glances. I could feel their doubt, their worry. Hell, I felt it too, but I wasn’t about to admit it.
Mason, normally the most level-headed one in our group, scoffed. “Well, clearly, we are the Fusion.”
Then Roman added, not so helpfully, “And hex? Definitely bad news, man. Like letting rookie pick the restaurant for cheat night.”
“There’s no such thing as hexes,” I said firmly, though my throat felt tight and an uneasy feeling settled in my chest. “It’s just a coincidence.”
“Sure, Rhodes. Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Cade deadpanned.
King cleared his throat, ever the voice of reason. “Let’s not get carried away. It’s just a fortune cookie. Sawyer’s right, it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Exactly.” I was trying to convince myself as much as them. “Now, can we drop it and get the hell out of here? This place is giving me the creeps.”
The guys grumbled their agreement, chairs scraping against the floor as they stood. The restaurant, already eerie, now felt oppressive, the dim lights casting long, dancing shadows on the walls.
The waitress had disappeared, so we threw down a wad of cash on the table to settle the bill.
I stuffed the freaky-ass fortune into my pocket, determined to forget about it. But deep down, I knew I was only kidding myself.
“Twenty bucks says we all wake up with food poisoning,” Cade announced as he pulled on his jacket.
“I still say it was pretty good,” Dex muttered, clearly wounded by the ongoing criticism of his restaurant choice.
“The food was fine,” Mason said, clapping him on the shoulder. “The ambiance was pure Stephen King.”
We gathered our things and headed for the door, eager to get the hell out of there.
As we stepped outside, a sudden gust of wind slammed the restaurant door shut behind us like a gunshot. We all jumped, Hunter’s 6’5” frame nearly colliding with mine.
“Jesus,” I muttered, my heart pounding against my ribs.
“Wind,” Roman announced, chin high like he hadn’t just flinched. “Just wind.”
Dex nodded too fast. “Totally.”
The wind died as fast as it had whipped up, leaving a strange, echoey quiet.
Miami nights were usually humid and warm, even in the dead of winter. But this… this was different. The cold had a bite to it, sharp and invasive.
“What the hell?” Brody pulled his thin jacket tighter. “It was like seventy degrees when we came in.”
We stepped out onto the sidewalk, the night darkness broken only by the glow of streetlights and the illuminated sign of the Golden Dragon behind us. The street was oddly deserted, no cars passing, no pedestrians in sight.
The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Something felt off, the way it did right before a big hit on the ice. A sixth sense kicked in, warning me of impending impact.
“I’m out,” Brody announced, already backing toward the parking lot. “See you losers at practice tomorrow, assuming we all survive the night.”
“We should all go,” King decided, taking charge as usual. “Early practice tomorrow. And Sawyer—” he fixed me with a stern look—“forget about that fortune crap. It’s nothing.”
I nodded, but my hand was already back in my pocket, fingers tracing the edges of the paper. As the others headed toward their cars, calling out goodbyes and last jokes about Dex’s restaurant choice, I lingered under the harsh glow of a streetlight.
I turned away from the guys and fished out the crumpled fortune from my pocket and smoothed it carefully. The streetlight above me buzzed like a dying insect.
“Beware the hex that divides the fusion,” I read again, my breath fogging in the unexplainable chill.
The spidery handwriting looked ghostly in the harsh light, the serpent drawing seeming to writhe on the page. I rubbed my thumb over my tattoo, the snake suddenly feeling like it was tightening around my wrist.
“This is ridiculous.” I crumpled it up, ready to toss it in the nearby trash can.
But as I raised my arm, Hunter’s hand shot out, blocking me. “Don’t.” I hadn’t even heard him approach.
“Why not? It’s just paper.”
His green eyes were serious as they met mine. “Superstitions, man. You never know.”
I hesitated, the paper light in my hand but somehow feeling like it weighed a ton. “You can’t seriously believe this crap? It’s a fortune cookie, not a prophecy.”
“My grandfather was Belarusian,” Hunter said, his voice low. “He taught me to respect warnings, especially ones that find you instead of the other way around.”
“It didn’t find me. Someone’s messing with us.”
“Maybe.” Hunter shrugged, his usual charming smile nowhere to be seen. “But, maybe it’s a sign. Maybe we should listen to it.”
I scoffed, trying to play it cool, but my stomach churned. “Listen to what? Some vague fortune cookie warning? It’s meaningless.”
“I’m just saying, in our line of work, we don’t tempt fate.”
I met his gaze, a silent understanding passing between us. With a sigh, I stuffed the fortune back into my pocket.
I glanced back at the Golden Dragon one last time. The lights were off now, the restaurant suddenly dark as if it had closed the moment we left. Even the sign had gone dark. If I hadn’t just eaten there, I would have sworn the place hadn’t been open for years.
We walked to our cars in silence. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted like a storm brewing on the horizon, dark and ominous, waiting to break.
I slid behind the wheel of my Aston Martin. As I pulled away, the Golden Dragon receded from view, its darkened windows like eyes watching my every move. The words from the fortune echoed in my mind like a drumbeat:
Beware the hex that divides the fusion.
I didn’t know if it was a joke or a warning.
My gut told me this wasn’t over.