Page 141 of Kill Feed

Leo points the gun, surveying the table. The muzzle drifts across contestant after contestant before stopping on a man whose clothes are still soaked in blood from standing beside Ethan when the guy’s skull exploded.

He just stares at him with fire in his eyes, scowling in the process. Then Leo looks sideways at Adrian. The movement is so subtle I’d have missed it if I wasn’t already watching both of them.

He nods, barely perceptible, and a small peace offering that he has no intention of ridding Adrian. Now that is interesting. Is Leo planning to work with him?

Adrian blinks—for the first fucking time since stepping foot into this arena—and positively signals back. Now who would have thought that the two of them would become brothers in arms? I steal a glance at Marcos, who doesn’t seem nearly as impressed as I am.

Click.

The man smiles before uttering, “You just put a target on your back, kid.”

The revolver lowers without a word. Leo evades his eyes, slightly biting his lower lip. Damn, he really hoped the shot followed through, huh?

Mason rolls his shoulders before letting out an exaggerated sigh.

“Well, guess Jayden lives to see another day…” He glances around the table. “This is getting boring, though.”

Nobody answers him, and he scoffs in response. “We still need two more bodies.”

His gaze drifts toward the Shepherds. Then, without bothering to lower his voice, he jerks his chin toward Adrian. “Vote for him.”

Several Shepherds exchange uncertain looks.

“What if he’s a Wolf?” one utters.

Mason throws his head back and laughs, “Seriously?” He points toward the table, one contestant at a time. “We’ve already seen all the Queens.” His finger lands on the last revealed Wolf, Leo. “That’s all of them.”

He slowly turns back to Adrian. “Which only leaves one possibility.”

My stomach drops. How is it that this little shit figured it out before me? I’ve been so busy watching Adrian and consumed by the thought of him getting shot that I failed to read the room.

A cold weight settles in my gut.

The Shepherds barely deliberate this time. I already know where the vote is headed.

“The next player…” Kamala starts as she turns her back to them, “…is Adrian.”

I don’t need to peer over at Amani and Lucas to know they’ll start pissing through their eyes the moment he puts the barrel against his head. Jesus, if he dies…

What will I do?

Go back to the way things used to be before? Murder my way to the top again for the fourth time this year. Go home and walk my dog, manage Nine Rounds and lift weights, do Selene’s bidding and assassinate the next poor soul trying to expose Kill Feed? It all sounds so meaningless and incredibly fucking boring.

And all while going through this Adrian-fueled crisis, the guy just stands there, figure unwavering.

The corners of Mason’s mouth twitch as he says, “Nothing to say?” visibly uncomfortable with Adrian’s dead silence and equally dead eyes.

Kamala approaches him with even strides, wasting no time as she hands over the revolver. He lets the weight settle in his hands, but instead of pointing it at himself, the gun slowly turns towards the gallery.

Straight to me.

Any form of noise and sound gets sucked from the room, replaced by a ringing in my ears. A sense of thrill and liberation floods my senses before stripping away completely, followed by the logical question: is he going to try and shoot me?

I don’t expect anything less from him, and he knows the rules. Pulling that trigger, even if the chamber is empty, will get him eliminated—aka, Kamala is going to kill him on the fucking spot. So, either we both die, or just him. Looks like he is willing to take that gamble… that is, if he is a good fucking shot.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Marcos hisses from beside me.

Then Yasmin chimes, “Now that’s never happened before.”