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I shook my head back and forth over and over. "No. Not that. I can’t. Please, no."
"We, uh, we have to, Dahlia," Payton said from beside me. At least he did sound like the idea pained him. "Who knows what he’ll do if we don’t."
He was right, but that didn’t change the emotions that fought and warred within me. I couldn't go through with it. I’d die of a heart attack before it was over. I knew it.
Drake had released my leg and was tapping my thigh. It was almost annoying, until I realized what he was tapping. It wasn’t my actual thigh, but my pocket. His finger hitting the card that was tucked away in my pants. In the stress of the game, and the newness of the object, I’d already forgotten about it.
Elise was already around the table, lifting the bag. I dug my hand into the pocket and ripped the card out. "Immunity," I screeched, my voice cracking as I spoke.
Drake patted my thigh. He had been giving me a signal, one that Sam wouldn’t notice. Elise froze, confusion marring her face.
"Well played," Sam said from the speakers. "You learn fast, as always. Dahlia will not be subject to this game. Please place the card on the table. It is now forfeit until I bestow it on another housemate."
Elise lowered her hands and looked up at the speakers. "So are we done? Is it over?"
"Oh, no, Miss Lindon. The game must be played. The next in line will roll."
"That’s me," Drake said, leaning forward to grab the die. He rolled it around his palm for a second before tossing it down. It bounced halfway across the table before coming to rest. One, again.
"No." The word was past my lips before I could stop it.
Rather than looking terrified as I had, Drake looked on with calm acceptance. At peace with the situation. "All right. Let’s get it over with."
I opened my mouth to protest, but he gave me one last squeeze on my thigh, and I closed my mouth. Bri and Liam watched in horrified interest as Payton took Drake’s hands and pulled them behind the chair, and clamped his fingers around Drake’s wrists. As strong and powerful as Drake was built, the angle and pressure on his elbows would allow Payton to hold him securely, even with his slight frame.
"Ready?" Elise asked.
"Let’s go," Drake said and closed his eyes.
Quicker than I thought was possible, Elise rammed the bag over Drake’s face, cinched the cord at the throat, and then tugged the bag until it was tight on his face. Even with the stains and the opaque nature of the bag, his face was visible, though distorted by the plastic pressing against it.
It only took a few seconds for him to begin panting, and gasping for breath. I looked on in horror as, behind the plastic, his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. The fingers on my hands ached as I clenched them together, unable to do anything to stop what was happening.
Payton began to struggle as Drake yanked and pulled at his hands. I’d thought there was no way he could get free, but Drake was even stronger than I’d known.
"If he gets free," Sam intoned, "all of you will be punished."
"Oh, shit," Liam hissed and jumped out of his seat.
A moment later both Liam and Payton each had an arm. Now completely secured, Drake’s head thrashed back and forth; his grunts vanished. Without any air in his lungs he couldn’t make a single noise. All that could be heard was the clack of his teeth together as he tried to bite the plastic and tear it, but it was too thick, and Elise held it too tight. There was nothing he could do. It was awful to watch. I’d never seen him look that helpless before.
"Jesus Christ," Elise said with a grunt. "Pass the fuck out already."
As if he registered what she said, Drake opened his mouth wide, eyes bulging, veins standing out on his neck and arms, then, slowly, he began to go limp. I watched as his eyelids slipped closed and he sagged, going completely limp. Liam and Payton let go of his arms and they swung free. Hanging dead.
Elise jerked back as I leaped up and clawed at the bag, ripping it off his head. When I finally got it off, Drake’s face looked pale and gaunt. Almost like he was already dead. I leaned forward, pressing my ear to his mouth. Nothing. No breath, he wasn’t breathing. I had no idea how to do CPR. I did the only thing I could. I slapped the shit out of him. My hand cracked against his cheek, releasing a sound like a gunshot through the room.
Drake’s eyes snapped open, and his mouth gaped as he sucked in a massive breath of air. I almost sobbed with relief. He took a few more breaths before he coughed—deep, racking hacks that forced him to lean forward resting his elbows on his knees.
Finally recovered, a few moments later he looked at me and gave me a wry grin. "Wasn’t so bad, I guess."
"Well done, everyone," Sam said. "Enjoy your meal. Our first hunting excursion will begin once you’re done."
I forced myself to eat, even though hunger was the last thing I had on my mind. Seeing Drake vulnerable and close to death had shaken me. Not for the first time, I wondered what might happen to me if he were to die. To be left alone, without him, sounded like a fate worse than death.
Chapter 6
DAHLIA
