Both Joe and Jake nodded.

“So what do we do?” Joe asked, his gaze glued to Adam.

“Storm the crypt. If we don’t, we’re just as dead as Adam,” Jake said.

Bill waived the closer group to the van. “I want you three to get the gun away from that maniac,” Bill said.

Three pairs of eyebrows arched.

“Why us?”

“Because you don’t know the full ritual and if we don’t do it, we’ll all be dead by the morning.”

Their faces paled and they exchanged glances before nodding. Before they could second-guess their decision, they spun and darted into the entrance. Two more rounds rocked the cemetery and then silence. A moment later, Kurt appeared and waved them inside.

Before the three of them entered the crypt, they hauled Adam into the van, covering him in the back. Bill wiped his hands on the robe he wore and grabbed the bag of condoms, his mind already mapping out his exact revenge for screwing up the night.

When he stepped inside, he paused, his gaze landing on Steve kneeling in the middle of the pentacle with the barrel of the gun planted on his temple. He even mustered up the courage to glare from behind dark bangs.

* * * *

He silently cursed his lack of accuracy. Adam was the only one that went down, but that’s because he froze and it gave Steve the time to guess at the right aim. The others were moving and with the drugs, he didn’t have a prayer at picking them off. His ears still rang from the report of the gun in such a small space. When the rest of the brothers filtered in, he glared at them, ignoring the hot metal on his temple.

The firelight from the torches they carried cast reflections in the glasses of one of the fraternity members and Steve got a quick glance of what they saw.

He looked like a demon himself, with glowing eyes amidst smeared paint on his face and a bloody pentacle stood out on his bare chest, along with two single red dots an inch from either clavicle. Jesus, I’m a fucking mess.

Refocusing his attention from the disturbing reflection back to the clan filtering in and closing the doors, his gaze never faltered, never diverted from the one bastard he wanted to see riding an electric chair. Bill smiled and took out the box of condoms, showing it to Steve and then tossed it towards the altar.

Rage curled in a tight ball within him, itching to strike but hands clamped on his shoulders, keeping him kneeling on the floor. “If you touch her, I will personally skin you alive,” Steve growled low in his chest, staring at Bill.

Bill laughed and handed a challis to Joe before pointing the dagger at Steve. “You nearly ruined the entire ritual with your little shit fit with the gun. I’m going to enjoy fucking her while you watch.”

Steve gritted his teeth. “I swear to God, you will die.”

Bill laughed. “You’re the one who’s going to die.”

“I’m not dying today,” Steve snarled. “And neither is she.” He flexed the muscles in his arm and the butt of the gun slammed down on his temple. He fell to his hands, bright lights blinding him and he blinked, shaking them away. When he looked up, Bill wasn’t in view and he got to his feet now that the gun wasn’t planted against his head.

He turned toward the altar and his eyes widened. Dread filled ever fiber of his soul at the sight of a knife held to the tender flesh of Jennifer’s throat.

Steve locked eyes with her and tears blurred his vision. He blinked them away, feeling the warm tracks slide down his cheeks. Epic fail. His internal voice chimed and he exhaled, returning his attention to Bill.

He glanced around the room and his gaze landed on Joe. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, hoping to get through to someone.

Bill stepped to the altar, positioning himself between her bound legs. He grabbed the jacket covering her and flung it across the room. Leaving her exposed for all the men to see.

“She’s the sacrifice this year,” Jake explained. “The fraternity brothers get to do whatever they want with her and then we leave what’s left for him.”

Jennifer began to shake on the altar. “No!”

“You’ll both get to see Tracy again,” Bill said and a bitter smile formed on his lips.

Steve still focused on the knife against Jennifer’s throat, his heart racing, his mind turning over options for escape. Even if he could dodge the last bullet, he still wouldn’t have the time needed to save her from that blade. His face scrunched in anguish and he took a shaky breath. “Fucking bastards.”

“Oh yeah, that little phone stunt this evening cost plenty,” Bill said. “She took a dive off the balcony today.”

Jennifer’s chin trembled and tears slid from the corners of her eyes.

“You killed her?” Steve asked, his attention now diverted one hundred percent to Bill and the full admission of murder.

“Had to—she would have caused problems,” he said.

The expression on Steve’s face changed. The entire room came into clear focus and he slipped into automatic FBI gear. “William Tyler, I’m arresting you for the death of Tracy Sheehan. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at interrogation time and at court. Do you understand these rights as I have read them?”

“What the fuck is this?” Bill asked, pointing the dagger in Steve’s direction.

“You just admitted to murder. I need you and everyone else in here to understand your rights before I send you to jail for the rest of your life.” Steve tilted his head with a smile.

Bill laughed.

“Look in the inside pocket of my jacket, Sherlock,” he snapped.

“Charlie, take a look,” Bill said.

“Oh shit,” Charlie said, pulling out the badge and handcuffs. His gaze bounced between the badge and Steve. “Holy-fucking-shit,” he repeated, and tossed it to Bill.

“Do you understand your rights?” Steve asked again.

Bill stared at the FBI emblem and Steve’s picture below it. “Well I’ll be damned. You’re a fucking FBI agent?” he chuckled. “Where’s your backup?”

“They’ll be here any moment. Do you understand your rights?”

“I think he’s bluffing,” Bill said, glancing at Jennifer for a moment and then back at Steve. “No one knows where you are.”

Jake dragged the dagger away from her throat and gently traced her body with the tip.

Steve took a step toward them and stopped, his eyes betraying him as readily as the tense set of his shoulders.

“Are you willing to watch her die?” Jake asked as he put the tip of the dagger directly over her heart.

Steve shook his head.

“Then stand down,” Jake said. “Or she dies.”

Steve stepped back and put his arms down in submission. “Damn you,” he whispered. “God damn you.”

Charlie grabbed him from behind, pushing him down on his knees in the center of the pentacle.

“He’s a cop,” Joe said, looking between Steve and Jake and Bill. “I didn’t sign up to kill a cop.” He put his hands up in the air and took a step toward the door.

Bill leveled his gaze at Joe. “You want to run? Go ahead. You know the consequences.” He moved his gaze around the room, landing back on Joe.

Joe inhaled sharply.

“What are the consequences?” Steve turned to Joe, hoping for an ally, but what he saw in Joe’s eyes killed any hope and the words that followed were like a mallet driving a nail into his coffin.

“A brutal, painful, prolonged death, one you can’t run away from,” Joe said, his eyes sliding away toward Jennifer and filling with the same anticipation the rest of the group had etched in their faces.

Joe licked his lips and nodded, meeting Bill’s questioning stare. Steve noticed the bulge in the front of his robe, in front of all their robes, and despair chipped away at his humanity, replacing it with a cold craving for revenge.