I have no idea what Killian is about to do, but I get the feeling that if I just go with it and act as though I trust him, no one will end up in the hospital tonight. He hasn’t driven up the ramp and onto the stage yet, but every now and then, he revs the loud Harley dirt bike, and the audience doesn’t know where to look. I begin swinging the rope in full circles around my neck, using my head as its harness. I flick it open and throw the ball out, bringing my leg up as I curl the rope around my ankle and flick it out to the back of me.
The audience shouts in excitement, once again feeding my confidence. Confidence that you need to get through shows like these. The song slowly remixes into “STARGAZING” by Travis Scott and I slow the swing again just as Killian drives the bike up onto the ramp and next to me. He revs the engine until it redlines, before his ass end starts spinning in circles around me. Holy. Holy shit. The smoke is thick, so thick that the audience probably can’t see inside and can only make out the circle of fire from the ball being spun around fast. I swing the ball lower when I see the trail of gas is still fresh. Just as the song slides into “You’ll Float Too” by Scosa and Quadra, the circle where Killian just ripped around lights up with me right in the middle. I can hear Killian’s bike outside of the ring as I continue to flick the ball around. The fire is dying out, so I know it’s about to stop, and then what?
Sure enough, the fire stops burning on the sponge and I drop it to the ground. The ring of fire drops to a simmer and the audience pauses. A few people take a seat. My confusion is something that they probably think is part of my act.
Only they’re wrong. I have no idea what Killian is playing at and suddenly Perse’s words seem more serious. “He’s the trickster. He’s malicious.”
Kyrin and Keaton drift out from behind the stage. They’re all made up in the clown makeup, loose jeans, and wearing no shirts. Realization slams into me instantly.
I’m their next act.
“Alone—Unplugged” by Sayk—404 starts playing. They’re notorious for using this tune for their scene.
Shit.
Killian turns his head over his shoulder once he’s in front of me, smirking at the audience. Everyone starts clapping and cheering him on as he pushes me down. I freak out, my arms flying out until I land on a chair.
Removing a bandana from around his neck, he drops down to face me. His eyes search mine, a smirk still so powerful it feels as though he’s punched me right in the stomach. “Ready?”
No? I want to say, because I’m not. Only my mind isn’t like the usual. I won’t allow him free access without a fight.
He ties it around my mouth so only my eyes are in view before flipping the scarf up so it’s finally covering my eyes. I can smell his cologne in the material, combined with gasoline and nicotine. My breathing thickens as colorful dots dance behind my eyes. What would happen if I let go? Music pirouettes around me, urging my mind to come out and play. Just a little. If only, out of sheer intrigue. Half of me is afraid what Killian and the boys could do, but the other half is enthralled.
Dark red lighting saturates my mind. Fishnet tights. My devil horns. A red lollipop being pulled from between my glossy red lips before being delicately slid back between them. Red. I suck on it as the lights begin to flicker, and Killian stalks toward me. He’s wearing no shirt, light blue denim jeans that are destroyed for vanity, and his trademark smirk. His body presses against mine as his hand comes to the front of my throat. He squeezes, cutting off air.
His lips move to the curve of my ear. “Are you who you say you are?”
My stomach drops and panic seizes my muscles as I tear off the blindfold.
I’m back in the show. Back in real time. This is real. That wasn’t smart.
Killian stares at me from the other side of the room as Delila explains to the audience what Killian can do, and asks for a volunteer from the crowd, to which she finds one. How long was I out? He wasn’t supposed to do that, yet he did, without even touching me. He’s not playing fair, using his trickery to conjure something out of me that doesn’t exist.
A girl.
Around my age.
I stand from the chair and she takes my place, my throat clenching as panic refuses to release its grip from around me.