Page 23 of Liar

She pulls her lips in, moving her head to the side in a half-shake of denial, tears tracking down her face.

I lower my chin in an almost imperceptible nod. Yes. Do it. You have to.

The members forming the circle mumble impatiently, so close to seeing bloodshed only to have it reduced by Ember’s refusal. Father notices. “Savannah, our princess, keep it up. Show the members that you’ve always belonged.”

Sav lifts from the floor and in a savage arc that surprises even me, plunges the screwdriver into Zeke’s thigh, possibly catching some scrotum along the way.

Zeke nearly breaks his neck tilting his head back, his eyes rolling to their whites. His voice box will carry scar tissue for years to come with the way he screamed.

Sadly, those screams die into whimpers. Soon, only the squeaking sound of the chair legs against the floor can be heard in the resounding silence. Zeke, poor fucker, is still attempting to escape, even if he has to bring the chair with him.

“Fuck this,” Ember murmurs. My ears prick with interest. “Fuck this,” she repeats.

She barrels over to the satchel, Sav stepping back enough to allow Ember to scan the various utensils. She’s left the screwdriver in Zeke, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she figures out how best to next attack.

Sav battles inner demons I can never come to understand, the fight obvious behind her eyes. She doesn’t want this, but she does. She’s trying to stop, but she can’t.

Only Ember can end this, and I hope to fuck she succeeds.

Be quick, Ember, before bloodthirst takes Sav over for good.

Ember pulls out the wooden paddle, the type that fraternities use. The surrounding members groan with disappointment at the lack of creativity.

I smile.

She walks behind Zeke. Zeke tries to follow her path but loses her. He’s shaking, pleading nonsensical words behind his gag. She lifts the paddle over her head. Closing her eyes, she moves her lips in a silent apology as she brings it down on the back of his head.

The crack sounds out through the space. Some members wince. Others applaud.

Zeke bows his head forward, groaning thickly. His eyes flutter, but he’s still conscious.

Again. I stare at Ember, hooding my eyes.

Sav goes for the pliers, then lifts Zeke’s fingers, cranking them back until they pop. Zeke’s guttural cries don’t reach her, but they freeze Ember, who watches Sav with horrified surprise.

“Savannah, don’t—” Ember tries to say, but Sav’s digging the pliers into one of his fingernails, peeling it back from his skin.

It’s a minor move, but astute, since it causes the kind of pain that could make even the Hulk pass out. Unfortunately for Zeke, Sav grows bored, moving to his pinky and positioning the pliers so she can amputate.

I lift my attention back to Ember. Hurry.

“Fuck,” she whispers again, her eyes as wide as I’ve ever seen them. She raises the paddle once more, bringing it down at his neck.

Then head.

Then neck again.

She swings and smacks, over and over, the sound becoming wetter, blood splattering onto her face, until Zeke goes limp.

Chapter 8

Ember

I killed him.

The paddle falls from my hand as I’m pushed aside by Jaxon, who scrambles to find a pulse.

My face feels warm—too hot, too tight. The dress’s fabric sags against my breasts. I hold my hand to my mouth, tasting metal.