Page 43 of Off the Rails

“No need to lie anymore, Ragdoll.”

Standing up, Cyrus towered above me as Nash and Blade pressed into the room. Their faces were stern but something lurked behind it. Fear? Concern?

I snatched the wallet off the table and double checked they hadn’t taken anything. There were a couple bucks inside, all the same credit cards. My Perkatory punch card.

Thank god. Only two away from a free cup.

Of course everything was there. Clearly, these three didn’t need money despite living in the middle of Feverpoint for no apparent reason.

Cyrus refused to move, still staring down at me as I wiped the mud off my wallet and the table.

Meeting her gaze, I wiped the dirt into the couch fabric. “Sorry.”

The energy was fucking weird, Cyrus’ nose scrunching into a snarl.

Sure, I’d lied about my name. Who wouldn’t? It certainly didn’t warrant this kind of a reaction from Cyrus.

I let my eyes move to Nash and Blade, who stood behind the couch now. They looked heavy, but now I could read them better. Apologetic.

Nash’s brows were furrowed ever so slightly, like she was trying to piece together an abstract puzzle. And Blade’s eyes were wide, like she wanted to take me apart and lay out all of my parts on the table. Examine each of them before stitching me back up.

Okay, maybe that’s always how Blade watched me.

But there was something else there now. A manicness, a buzzing energy in each of my captors that I hadn’t noticed before.

It was unnerving. Usually, calm and collected — okay, fine: collected — I couldn’t understand why the room felt like a lit fuse.

Biting my lip, my eyes were drawn back down to my phone where the conspiracy video was muted, playing on a loop.

I pointed at it, uninterested in letting this vibe fester. “Have you guys heard about this dude? He’s calling himself The Messenger. Some religious shit.”

Nash’s forehead scrunched as she came around the couch, peering down at the looped images. She didn’t bother to lift the phone. “Weird.”

Running from the door, Blade hurdled over the back of the couch, slamming down into the cushions next to me and taking a look for herself. “Huh, bizarre.”

Cyrus rolled her eyes, moving toward the kitchen. “He’s a fucking propagandist. No, he’s worse, a fucking loon.” Shaking her head, she grabbed an apple from the counter and bit into it, juice spraying out as she sunk her teeth into the flesh. “Let Dom handle that shit.”

“Dom?” I looked back at my two nice captors.

Blade had rearranged herself on the couch, letting her head dangle toward the ground while putting her feet up. “Dumont. She’s the leader of that biker gang.”

“The ones who killed that Zeus guy?” I pushed, watching Blade’s face flush as the blood rushed to her head.

Nash nodded. “Yeah. Dom’s dad. Fucking pedophile, had to take out the trash.”

“Enough.” Cyrus growled from the kitchen.

Silence fell over the room.

I felt like a lead blanket had covered all of us. Clearing my throat, I met Nash’s faded eyes. “How’d your ‘shipment’ go?”

Before she could answer, Cyrus hissed. “No.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I scoffed, “Is there anything you want to talk about.”

“Nope.” Cyrus stared daggers into me.

Her broad chest lifted as she took in a deep breath, her eyes staying on mine. Until she turned away, heading for the hallway. “Get some rest, Ragdoll. Tomorrow’s Fright Night.”