Page 4 of Barinov

“We shouldn’t have fucking let her,” I snarl.

Tex grabs me by the shoulders, his fists tight. “Focus, Barinov. What the hell happened?”

A breath scrapes down my throat. “We got here and saw all the bodies,” I say, the image searing into my skull. “Ran into the office and she was gone.”

This is your fault. It’s all your fucking fault.

I stare down at the dark smear on the floor. I clamp my fists tight, my fingernails digging tiny moons into my palms.

“Lex!” Tex shakes me out of it.

“Roman was dead. Or we… we thought he was. I don’t—” My gaze drops to my red-stained hands. I wipe them on my pants like an idiot.

“What else?” Tex’s voice cuts through me.

“She’s gone, Tex!”

Knox steps forward, crunching shards of glass with each stride. “What did Luca say?”

“Another poem about collars and games and Bella being…” I blink through the sting in my eyes. “About Bella being fucking dead, Knox.”

He holds out a hand. “Let me see.”

I shove my phone at him. He scans it, his eyes flicking fast and jaw working with each line. He pauses. Then gives it back and runs a hand through his sandy-blond hair.

“Okay. She isn’t dead.”

Cade’s head jerks up. “How can you know that?”

“Think about all the poems and the insanity of this year. He was building up for something.” Knox shifts the bag on his shoulder. “Killing her now ends all of his momentum.”

He meets my eyes. “I don’t think he’s done playing whatever game he’s created.”

My stomach twists in a sick blend of dread and relief.

Before we can speak, Nate cuts in. “Where’s her phone?”

“Her phone?” Cade echoes.

“Yes,” Nate says, yanking out his own.

Buzz. Buzz.

Heads begin turning as we all look around.

Buzz. Buzz.

I shove some blood-stained papers aside, scattering them across the floor only to find her phone abandoned underneath.

“Damn,” Knox mutters. “So much for tracking her location.”

Nate nods. “Okay, listen. Both of you need to go home and get cleaned up. We’ll handle the scene here and meet you back at your place.”

“We’re not fucking leaving,” I say, fists clenched again at my sides.

“Yes you are,” Nate fires back, colder now. “Look at yourselves. Both of you are in shock and need—”

“I’m not—” The denial comes out hoarse and unconvincing even to me. I open my mouth again, but Nate holds up a hand before I can get a word in.