Chapter 34
Blair
Our victim is a soccer coach and it shows.
He sprints through the dark woods with ease and he’s nimble. He hurdles over fallen trees, ducks under branches, and can pivot like a pro. I’m honestly impressed.
My feet aren’t silent as I move. I don’t know where the others are but I know at least Rhett must be close.
He’ll probably be my true competition tonight.
Santi… Well, he made a mistake choosing the throwing axes.
Every attempt at throwing his axe has led to him missing as our victim ducks and dives out of the way.
While Santi is forced to retrieve his weapons, it gives me and Rhett a solid lead.
My footsteps slow as I come to a stop, listening for signs of our prey.
There’s no more crashing of footsteps through the leaves which means he’s either gained a significant lead or he’s hiding. My bet is on the latter.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are…” Rhett calls out from somewhere nearby.
I can’t see him, but I can hear his dark chuckle that carries through the woods. It sends a shiver of excitement through me. If Santi runs and bounds around here like a golden retriever, Rhett moves like a raging grizzly bear. I almost wish I could stop and watch him maul our victim down.
Too bad I’m way too competitive for that.
“If you come out for me, I’ll make it quick,” I promise loudly.
There’s a sputter of indignation before Rhett calls out, “She’s lying!”
I snicker. If Rhett doesn’t like coercion then he better find this guy before me.
“Look, one of us is going to find you,” I call out, trying to be reasonable.
“And when we do, you’re a dead man. The only bright side is, if I kill you it’ll be quick and relatively painless.
I like a clean victory. But if my partner finds you before I do?
Well, there’s no telling what he’s capable of.
I’ve never seen him in action but he’s an asshole without an axe, so I can only imagine that he’s an even bigger asshole with one. ”
Rhett’s soft snicker reaches my ears.
“See?” I point out. “Creepy psycho laughter. Trust me, come to me and let me make this easy for you—”
Like a startled deer our victim shoots out from behind a tree. Over his shoulder he screams, “You’re both psychopaths. Now leave me alone!”
I give chase, the axe in my right fist swings beside me. It’s heavy but the weight gives me momentum. The ground beneath my feet inclines, growing steeper with every foot. Unlike last time, this victim doesn’t shift direction. He goes straight up, probably hoping that we’ll tire before he will.
Too bad that’s not going to happen.
I close the distance between us. His heavy breathing becomes more noticeable and his feet are starting to slip from beneath him. A grin stretches across my face. I’m about to win—
Rhett comes out of nowhere, his body nearly horizontal as he flies through the air to tackle our prey to the ground. The guy cries out in alarm as they both go down. They roll toward me, following the natural decline of the hill. A curse slips from my lips as I get to Rhett and our prey.
The soccer coach elbows Rhett in the face, the force of it throwing his head back.
Our prey pushes him off and tries to scramble to his feet but my foot slams under his chin.
He falls backward, then screams as the blade of my axe comes whistling down from over my head.
He rolls out of the way just in time. Then, like a cat with ridiculously fantastic reflexes, he sees and ducks as Rhett’s blade tries to take off his head.
“Son of a bitch,” Rhett snarls.
Our prey scrambles to his feet and tries to take off again.
He gets in seven long strides. That’s it. Then the blade of my axe slams between his shoulder blades, lodging itself there. I try to yank it free so that I can land another blow but the axe won’t move.
“Shit,” I whisper.
My victim screams in agony but he can’t go anywhere. He’s trapped at the end of my axe which I have a firm grip on.
“Can you, like, wiggle your shoulders or something?” I ask him as I press my foot on his lower back and try to pull the axe out this way.
He screams again, the sound echoing all around me. As I struggle to pull it free, Rhett’s axe appears out of nowhere. It slams into the man’s gut.
“Hey! This is my kill!” I shout, my attempt to pull out my axe becoming more frantic.
Rhett scoffs. “You’re not doing a very good job of it.”
He pulls his blade out and swings again. The man’s intestines spill out from the gaping hole in his gut just before he loses an arm. Though most of his face is covered with his bandana, I can see Rhett’s eyes. They glitter with malice and delight, flaring brighter than I’ve ever seen them.
Again and again, Rhett swings his blade. Blood goes flying. I can feel it covering me as I continue to try to yank out my axe. Soon, Rhett’s soaked in it.
Eventually, our victim stops screaming.
It's not until there are no limbs left that Rhett stops. Breathing heavily, he stares down at what used to be a man. Rhett’s body is trembling as if the kill had somehow amped him up. When he wipes his forearm across his sweaty face, a thick smear of blood follows and lingers on his skin.
Rhett looks good with life humming around him, even with death at his feet. Too bad, I’m too pissed to appreciate it.
I gape in outrage at the limbless torso my axe is still stuck in. Shoving up my mask, I turn to glower at Rhett. “I totally killed him. You know I’m the winner here, right?”
Rhett’s head jerks up as if he’s forgotten I was even standing here. A scoff slips past the bandana covering his mouth.
“I literally dismembered him. I won,” he objects.
I point to my axe. “If you hadn’t shown up, he would’ve bled out. That was a killing blow.”
“But I did show up, and I stopped his heart with a messy chop to the chest,” Rhett counters, his voice rough. His dark brows slam together in a heavy scowl. “That makes me the winner.”
“No, it doesn’t! I got him first!”
“He was still alive when I cut him up, so you didn’t kill him. You almost killed him,” Rhett explains as he tosses his axe down.
I sputter, looking for a counter argument. Santi skips up to us with his mask up, grinning ear to ear.
“Okay, turns out I probably need to practice throwing at moving targets before trying to use these things,” he admits, not seemingly put out by the idea. “Now, who won?”
Rhett shoots me an incredulous look before announcing, “Me, of course. Blair here is being a sore loser.”
“I’m not a sore loser!” I whirl around to face Santi. “I’m a sore winner because someone is trying to take my victory away!”
Santi beams at the both of us. “You know, I don’t really care who won. I just want to know where the winner wants me.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, confused.
He rolls his eyes. “You know what I’m talking about. We’ve done this before, carino.”
My face heats at the memory and my body follows suit.
“How come you call her that? What does that mean?” Rhett asks, crossing his arms over his chest.
Oh no, is this going to cause tension between the two of them? Before I can hastily make something up, Santi shoots him a devastatingly handsome smile.
“It means ‘sweetheart’.” He cocks his head to the side. “I have a nickname for you as well. I’ve been waiting until you were ready to hear it. Is that now?”
Rhett’s eyes narrow. “If it’s asshole in Spanish, then no.”
I sniff out a chuckle as Santi laughs.
“No, mi amado, it’s not,” Santi promises, his voice warming.
“Mi amado?” Rhett repeats in poor Spanish, tasting the words on his tongue. “What does that mean?”
“My beloved,” Santi translates.
My smile splits my face as I watch Rhett’s eyes widen before warming. It’s as if this is the last thing he expects to hear. After a second, Rhett pulls himself together and rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, well,” he clears his throat. “You’re mine, too.”
My heart swells at the rough declaration from the surly lumberjack. I didn’t think Santi’s smile could get any bigger but it does. It makes giving up my win a bit easier knowing they can share this moment.
“Rhett won,” I concede, happy for the two of them. “You guys go have your fun. I’ll start cleaning up.”
I start to turn around, already trying to figure out how to get my axe out of our victim’s body but Santi grabs my wrist. I twist back around to find Rhett standing closer to me. Both guys exchange a knowing look before Rhett turns his attention back to me. He raises that pierced brow quizzically.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks. “Last I checked, you both played and you both lost. That means I get to decide your fate tonight.”
It takes a moment for his words to process.
Rhett is going to call the shots? My eyes sweep over him, taking in the blood splatter covering his red and black flannel jacket, his dark bandana, and his brows.
He looks wild and unhinged, but what makes my heart skip a beat is the excitement in his eyes.
It brightens up the darkness and makes him look almost manic.
It’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen from him.
Hell, I can’t even see most of his face right now, but I’m breathless at the energy crackling around Rhett.
This could be thrilling.
Or it could be disastrous.
I hesitate a moment longer. Rhett hasn’t given me a reason to trust him. Giving him domain over my body makes me nervous. As it should. Dad said that in the end, the only person I can trust is myself, him, and Ledger.
Up until recently, I believed him.
Then I came to Gnarly Pines where I met Wes, who’s only shown me tenderness and comfort.
My eyes flicker to Santi. Santi has shown me that life doesn’t have to be so serious.
His eyes are locked onto my face, wide as saucers, and his bottom lip is starting to jut outward as he quietly pleads for me to trust him on this.
And the thing is, I do trust him. If Santi thinks this is wise, then I’ll play.
Turning my attention back to Rhett, I hold his gaze as I smile.
“Alright, Rhett, what do you want us to do?”