After Holt's vague explanation, the lounge fell into silence, the irritating kind.
Ethan folded his arms, his blue eyes fixed on the detective.
"What else do you know?" he asked, refusing to let the subject drop. "How is this a game? For whose entertainment? God? And what exactly are we vessels for?"
Lucas Holt simply looked back at him.
That same infuriating smile never left his face, which only made them more frustrated. And while Ethan could restrain himself, the same couldn't be said for Kaela, who slammed her bottle onto the table hard enough for the liquid inside to slosh over the rim.
"Stop acting like some cryptic old bastard," she snapped. "If you know something, then spit it the fuck out!"
Holt slowly raised both hands in mock surrender.
"I wish I could."
His tone remained maddeningly calm.
"I have genuinely told you all I can say for sure."
He shifted his gaze back to Ethan, who clearly didn't believe him.
