I take the next twenty steps without stopping and find myself in the loft. But it’s deceiving from the first floor, because there’s a whole other house up here. Another staircase, in fact, not connected to this one.

It’s a great open space with a few rooms scattered around. Bedrooms, I think. A bathroom. I walk past those and head towards the second staircase. The music is louder here, so that’s where he is. Up in the very top. In the crow’s nest thing I saw from outside.

I climb up two steps, stop, listen, then climb all the way up until I get to the top.

The room is circular, nothing but glass on all sides. The ceiling is taller than it looked outside, also glass. Merric Case is stretched out on a half-moon—bed, couch—covered in fluffy white blankets and pillows that line the windows. His feet and chest are bare, his jeans faded and ripped. His fingers never stop playing and he never looks away as I leave the stairwell and enter the room.

I’m burning up from heat in this coat.

I stop and wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t. Just keeps playing that song.

I look down at my feet, a self-conscious move—a show of doubt, if I’m being honest—and see that my boots have tracked up snow. It melts into a little puddle beneath my feet. When I look back up he’s staring at my boots too, frowning.

It’s absurd to think he cares about the water damaging his hardwood floors, but that’s the impression I get. “Should I take them off?”

He looks back up at me and the strumming stops. “Why are you here?”

I don’t have anything to say to that. So I just stare at him.

“Did you at least enjoy it?”

“What?”

He resumes his playing and looks down at the fingers on his right hand as they pluck the strings. A new tune. Something simple. Just a melody.

“The sex,” he says, still paying attention to his instrument.

“Oh.”

“It was planned then, huh?”

His eyes burn into me as he waits. I’m preoccupied by the music and the memory of my first time. I let out a long sigh and turn away, kick off my boots and step into a puddle of water that soaks my socks. I pull them off as well, unzip my jacket and shove that down my arms.

He stares at me the whole time.

I drop the jacket on the floor next to my boots and then work on the snow pants. This takes me several minutes, and I have to sit down on the bed once I get them over my hips. I throw those on the floor next to my coat. And then I’m in my jeans and long-sleeved shirt.

“Did I plan on letting you take my virginity?” I laugh a little and squirm in my seat. “No, Case. I don’t get to plan anything. I carry out orders.”

“So Garrett ordered you to sleep with me?”

“It was a message.”

“Yeah?” Case asks, setting the guitar down on the couch bed next to him. He scoots forward, so he’s no longer sprawled out and his feet are on the floor. “I’m not sure I speak that language, so why not enlighten me.” He’s pissed, I realize. For being tricked into this. I have no sympathy for that. But I can empathize. “Why not explain it, Syd. Just get it all out in the open so I can decide what to do with you.”

“If that’s supposed to scare me, it doesn’t.”

He smiles, but not in a nice way. “I’m sure.” He stands up and walks over to me. He reaches out before he’s close, and when he is, he cups my face and lifts my gaze up to meet his. “What. Was. The message, Syd?”

“You’re even now,” I say matter-of-factly. “That was the message.”

“How does he figure that?”

I shrug. This makes Case drop his hands. I take a deep breath. “I don’t know the story behind you two. None of it. So I have no idea.”

“You’re lying.” He stares into me and this makes me shift my position. “Is your job done, then? You were here to what? Trick me into taking your virginity to even up a score that was never uneven, in a game I was never playing?” He laughs. “Please.”

I don’t even know what that means. “I’m yours anyway. So what do you care?”

“You’re a gift then?”

I shrug again.

“So Brett? He’s in on this how?”

“He’s not.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Get out.”

“No.” I stand and point at the walls made of glass. “There’s nothing out there. There’s nowhere to go.”

“Get back in the Cat. Go back the way you came. And follow the trail I cleared for you. I’ve made arrangements.”

“No,” I say again. “I’m not leaving here. I’ve got questions. I’ve got a lot of fucking questions.” My voice rises. Not much. I’m not a yeller. I don’t lose control easily. “And I want answers. I want to know why you people have been fucking with my life since I was little. Why, Case? What the fuck did I ever do to you? Why take me? Why do any of this if you’re just going to send me away?”

“You want answers?” He bends down so we are eye level, placing his hands on his knees and leaning forward. “You sure about that, Sydney?”

I swallow down the fear that’s rising in my chest. “Yes.”

“Why would I give them to you?” He straightens up again, emphasizing the height difference between us. Like he needs this advantage.

There is no good answer for that. None at all. Why would he give them to me?

He laughs. “You don’t have any idea what’s going on here, do you? You’re so fucking lost.”

“So find me.”

He turns and walks over to the stairs. Walking out, I realize. “I can’t.” He looks over his shoulder at me. A flash of light catches in his amber eyes and sends a chill up my spine. “It’s too late for you. Too late for all of this. Everything—” He stops to take a breath. “Everything I feared would happen, well, it’s happening. No, it’s already done. And now I have to worry about me, Sydney Channing. And the people I actually care about, the few decent human beings on this goddamned planet I love, they are the only ones who matter now. Because if Garrett thinks this shit is over because he gave me his prize virgin, he’s mistaken. Fuck you and your boyfriend. Fuck you and your gift. Fuck you and your problems, Sydney. Just fuck you. This has gone on long enough. The only girl I’m interested in now is Sasha.”

And just like that, he walks away.

Again.

“When you find yourself alone with no options… lie.”

– Sydney

I only get two steps towards the stairs when she hurls herself at my back. I lurch forward, grab the railing, and just barely stop a fall that could’ve broken my neck. I reach behind me, grab her upper arm, and swing her around. She hits the floor hard, her head cracking against the banister, and growls out something unintelligible.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

She’s back on her feet the moment it takes for me to say those words, and I get another direct hit. This time she charges me like a bull. I stumble backwards again, lose my footing on the stairs for real this time, and we both fall over sideways. I break her fall, and a sharp pain travels down the nerve that leads to my hand. But there’s no time to think about that, because she’s on top of me, her fists swinging wildly for my face. She connects once, and then I snap out of it.

Girl or not, I’m gonna end this now.

I sit up and grab her hands, then give her a head butt that would knock almost anyone out. She sways backwards, stunned. Blood runs down her face where I cut her forehead open, and I swing my legs up. She is propelled forward over my head and crashes on the landing a few stairs below.

I catch my breath for a moment, sitting sideways on the stairs, to see if she will get up. I stand, jump down the stairs, and straddle her limp body. Her eyes are open though. And she’s not dead.