Page 177

There is no smile beneath the black rabbit mask this time, no trace of the amusement that has colored every word she’s spoken tonight. She simply watches me, cold and unreadable, as though what she’s seeing is nothing more than the final act of a performance.

Behind her appears her right-hand woman—a crossbow loosely in her hand.

She fucking did this. She shot Dante. My body coils, every nerve strung to breaking.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Selene reaches behind her back and draws a gun of her own, bringing it up with effortless precision. “Don’t even think about it. No need to get reckless.”

My eyes slowly lift from the barrel to meet hers, and I instinctively pull Dante closer, putting my grip between him and the gun even though I know exactly how useless that would be.

Selene tilts her head. “You’ve spent the entire night surviving everyone else’s rules, Adrian. It would be a shame if the last thing you learned was that surviving was never entirely up to you.”

Her finger settles against the trigger, and every muscle in my body goes still as I brace for the impact.

Dante pulls my face away, letting my focus settle only onto him. “Look at me, baby,” he mutters. He’s barely conscious in my arms, breathing shallow and uneven, face far too pale. “Keep your eyes on me.”

I know exactly what he’s doing, and I don’t want it any other way. So, if this is where it ends, then so be it. I want my last view to be of him, and him only.

Click.

Saturated color explodes across my vision, so violently bright that I have to blink twice before I realize I’m still breathing. I look up, my brows drawing together as a storm of rainbow-colored paper spirals down around me.

Confetti.

Fucking confetti.

It twirls through the air in a grotesque imitation of celebration, settling across the floor and my shoulders while Selene doubles over, laughing so hard she can barely contain herself.

“Congratulations, Adrian Summers, you won this year’s Kill Feed.” Selene lowers the gun, seemingly satisfied with the confusion she has left hanging in the air.

What. The. Fuck.

“You’re one sick bitch,” Dante adds, barely, as he lets out a weak laugh.

“I’m deeply disturbed that you don’t know me better, Graves,” Selene grins, shaking her head.

“Kamala, open the gate and let the twins in,” she adds, turning her head towards the woman beside her, and I barely spare her bodyguard a glance. The revelation that Kamala is Selene’s personal lapdog hardly registers anymore; my attention remains fixed on Dante, who’s barely clinging to fucking life.

Kamala moves toward the gate where the twins are waiting. She unlocks it, and the moment it swings open, Yasmin comes flying through, with Yara close behind carrying a medical kit.

They drop beside me almost immediately.

“Let me see him,” Yara says.

I pull Dante closer, my senses filling with doubt.

“We need to help him right now,” Yasmin states, dropping down to her sister’s side.

“Baby, it’s OK,” Dante states, clearly fighting every fiber in his body to stay awake. Reluctantly, I let him go, let the girls do what they apparently do best.

“We need to get him to a hospital—”

“He’ll live,” Selene says casually.

I look up at her, and she tilts her head, almost amused by my concern. “All my hunters are practically surgeons by now. It’s a requirement if they intend to stay alive.”

I glance back at the twins as they work, their hands steady despite the chaos around us.

Selene passes the faux gun to Kamala, who takes it without hesitation.