Page 116 of Kill Feed

“Adrian—what the fuck is going on?”

My thoughts refuse to settle as the countdown keeps ticking in my pocket. I shove my bedroom door open and head straight for the nightstand. The drawer jerks hard enough that the wood slams against the rails and rattles the lamp on top.

Fucking Kill Feed.

The words still don’t feel real.

Not because I don’t know what it is; it’s because I do. I’m all too fucking aware, but I never predicted this outcome. How are all of us involved?

My fingers close around the hunting knife tucked beneath old camera batteries and loose receipts before shoving it into the side of my boot. I move towards the closet, grabbing full riding gear.

Think Adrian. Just fucking think.

Dante told me to stay away from Kill Feed. He told me snooping was dangerous and seeking the truth behind it was the same as playing with fire. But I stopped.

The only other person I confronted about Kill Feed was Leo, but there’s just no connection there. He was reluctant to tell me about it and even demanded I stay far the fuck away from him.

As for Selene Whitlock herself. She couldn’t have known about me… right?

So why the fuck—

A horrible thought hits me so suddenly that my stomach twists. Dante fucking Graves. My jaw clenches hard enough to ache.

Did he do this?

No.

No, that doesn’t make sense. But it fucking does. Ah shit. Have I been played? AGAIN.

I head back toward the living room, already moving through possibilities in my head as to how we survive the night.

Upon entering the living room and seeing both Amani and Lucas pace back and forth contemplating whether this is some sick joke or a mistake, it certainly doesn’t make survival any easier.

“Amani, put your shoes on,” I say, checking the timer on my phone.

4 minutes and 30 seconds.

“Get your jacket,” I continue, and she obeys, moving instantly to grab her stuff. I turn towards Lucas, who still looks completely out of it. Like his soul has left his body with no way to return. I’m just as confused as he is, but fuck, I can’t babysit both of them whilst running from masked killers.

“Get your car keys,” I say, slipping my riding jacket and gloves on. “The both of you need to be in that car the moment the timer runs out, and the map appears.”

“Why are we entertaining this? And what about you?” Amani asks, eyes turning glossy.

“I’m taking my motorcycle. I’ll follow you.” I grab my helmet and keys from the hook beside the front door. Lucas is still pale, but at least he’s moving now, dragging his hoodie over his head with shaky hands.

“If you can’t drive, let Amani do it,” I say, beckoning them out the door. For a second I think he might actually agree.

Then his jaw tightens.

He yanks the hoodie down properly and grabs his keys from the coffee table.

“No.” The word comes out rough. “I can drive,” his eyes drifting briefly toward Amani. “And I’ll keep her safe.”

Something in his expression shifts when he looks at her, seemingly all protective and determined. He is annoyingly attached to her, which is good. That makes him useful.

Amani steps closer to us, phone still clutched tightly in her hand as she looks from Lucas to me.

Then back again.