Chapter 2 #2
She barely hits the ground before he’s on her. A slap cracks her face. Then a fist nails her sides before he punches her in her chest. “Is this how you still plan to sell Talia?”
What the fuck?
Before I have time to process his words, Mikah yanks Sonja’s hair, dragging her unconscious body back to the barn. Griff and Jackson follow quickly behind—Dr. Parks slung over Griff’s shoulder.
“Come on, asshole,” Jackson commands. “You can do your weird shit with your next kill. We’re already behind schedule, Fredrick.”
My skin crawls at the mention of Fredrick’s proclivities. I can stomach a lot of shit, but the shit he likes warrants some serious psychoanalysis.
Four of them disappear into the darkness, joking about what’s in store for the two runways, and I have to fight the need for vengeance coursing through my veins.
This is the part I hate. I can only watch.
Recon is recon.
Unless your cover is blown, you don’t engage. That’s how you get your shit split in two. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to ignore the rule that ensures we make it back to base, not in a body bag. And every fucking year is harder than the last.
Massaging my temples, I check the camera feeds, waiting until it’s safe to make my descent.
“What do you mean, I only get one this time?” Fredrick whines like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum.
All they do is argue and kill people. And right now, I wish they’d hurry up and get to the murder portion of tonight’s festivities.
Tensing, Mikah’s nostrils flare, his eyebrows furrow, and his jaw tightens.
I watch intently as he inhales and exhales—each breath pulling him back from the urge to kill them all. “Just like I fucking said,” Mikah exclaims. “You blew half of the Deputy Commissioner’s face off.”
Nodding, I hum my approval. That portly fucker liked to force the wives, daughters, and sometimes even the mistresses of anyone he audited. They either paid him or fucked him, and I do mean fuck him, in order not to be charged with federal tax evasion.
“That shit doesn’t count,” Fredrick argues.
They go back and forth until Mikah snaps, charging at one of his best friends. “Do you expect me to pull a replacement out of the fucking air, Freddy?”
Sliding between them, Griff quickly brings his fingers to his mouth, whistling so loud that I have to remove my goddamn earpiece. “Will you two shut the fuck up?” The order—irrefutable.
“We’ll do what the rules dictate. We have them for a reason,” Jackson adds. The proud peacocks’ chests deflate at the directive. “We let them all go and hunt ’em down until their lights go out.”
Blood thumps in my ears, drowning out the rest of the details. I don’t need to listen—I know these rules.
A smile unfurls on my face as the idea forms, and my excitement grows. If they play this way, I get to join.
“Ten-minute head start.”
“No, five.” They bicker until they finally agree on seven and a half minutes. They spent most of that time bickering about how much time they were going to allow.
Rolling my eyes, I set my timer, checking my weapons for the fourth time when they finally begin the countdown.
A horn sounds, and I sync my watch, but I don’t move—not until screams begin. We’re barely a minute in when the first cry bursts out.
Wasting no time, I shimmy down the tree, duffel in tow. I survey the scene. I’m still insulated by the forest, but I scout everything within my radius and send my drones to monitor what can’t be seen.
“Got one,” Jackson cackles. “Loser has to pay for beers for the next three months.”
Hoots and hollers soon follow.
They are so unserious. But this is how you know they’re untouchable. Only those who aren’t above reproach live in fear.
No law enforcement will ever set foot on this land.
It’s why they can leave the bodies to the elements.
No one is coming to reap the souls. Instead, they will aimlessly wander, never allowed to find peace and rest. The horrors experienced on the property could serve as lessons in true crime.
If the plants could talk, they would speak of the ever-flowing blood and fear that waters their roots.
Bitterness coats my tongue, heavy and thick as I locate my prey for the night. The taste doesn’t linger because everyone here tonight deserves to live in endless torment. It’s the innocents lost that make me angry.
Channeling my rage, I glance at my screen. The blonde bitch is not even close to coherent, but her will to survive has her running at an unimaginable speed. It doesn’t matter, though, because she’s heading in the direction I need her to.
Snickering, I mentally high-five my past self for the intuition to chart a path that would lure one of these asshole into believing they’re free. “That’s right, cunt, waltz right into my trap,” I mutter loud enough that only I can hear.
“I got Sonja,” Mikah hisses. But he’s heading the wrong way.
He never did have a good sense of direction.
Giggling, I veer right, cutting down a back route that will get me to my destination in half the time.
Another scream bellows into the abyss.
“Enjoy your night, boys. I’ve got who I wanted,” Fredrick croons, churning my stomach as I’m once again reminded that whoever he’s cornered will be violated until he’s satisfied. He’ll take you alive and dead.
No distractions.
Shaking my head, I clear my thoughts. I’m more than halfway to my target.
Ready to taste blood, I hook left at the fork in the road before whipping right as the small clearing comes into view. I stop just short of the opening, tucking myself behind the tree trunk.
Crouching, I pull a Shuriken from its sheath on my thigh and watch Sonja creep closer and closer.
“YA ub'yu etikh ublyudkov, kogda vyberus' otsyuda.”
Amused by Sonja’s stammered promise for retribution once she escapes from here in Russian while she passes me, I arch a brow and wait.
I count her steps…
One…
Two…
I contemplate giving more time, but I’m getting bored.
The moonlight illuminates her swollen face. One eye is completely shut, and her left cheekbone sits at an unnatural angle. I’d offer her the contact information for a few top-tier plastic surgeons if I weren’t about to turn her into Picasso’s Weeping Woman.
Smirking, I feel the weight of the blade on my fingers, perfectly seated. If I wasn’t in the mood to play, I could deliver a kill shot from here. However, tonight I plan to make some Barry Bonds-level home runs.
I release the blade, ravenous for the fun to begin.
Gaze glued, I watch in smug satisfaction when it lodges into the back of her neck, piercing her spinal cord.
Sonja slumps to the ground with a thud. The action, reminding me of the riddle, ‘If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around, does it still make a sound?’
This one did.
Shrugging, I slide my mask in place, eager for it to be the last she ever sees. I want the neon red stitch-like Xs to haunt her in the afterlife.
More than ready to cause chaos, I grab my Guilie, pausing long enough to admire the shine of the barbed wire wrapped around the barrel of her.
“Tupaya ty suka. YA sderu s tebya zhiv'yom kozhu i zazharyu na uzhin,” she slurs. “Vytashchi menya otsyuda.”
I snicker at her empty threats to grill me like a steak if I don’t get her out of here. “Vash zhnets zdes', chtoby sobrat,” I retort as I two-hand grip my bat.
Sonja’s face scrunches in confusion. She’s a tough bitch, I know grown men who would’ve died from fright alone. Not her. She glares, no fear in sight. “Phhh-F-f-f-uck y-y-you an-d-d-d you-your re-reap-p-p-p-er.”
“Stubborn until the end,” I sneer. “I could respect it, but you’re fucking scum. Human-trafficking vile scum.”
Her expression turns smug, “Were you one of the bitches I sold, or was it someone in your family?” The clarity in her words almost surprises me as she spits at me.
Jumping back, I angle my body, twisting and taking aim.
Fuck this cunt.
Rage fuels me, and I swing with a force that I know will be the kill shot.
The crunching and snapping of bone and cartilage is the only warning before her warm, sticky blood splatters across my mask.
My nipples harden, and my pussy clenches. Exacting vengeance violently always makes me so fucking turned on.
Clenching my thighs together, I peer down at lifeless eyes. “Look what you made me do,” I huff. “I was supposed to play longer.”
Annoyed, I take aim and crack the bat into her face until gray and white brain matter flies into the air. I’m so enraptured at the sight of skin that runs down my bat, pooling around my gloved hand before landing on whatever is left of Sonja’s caved-in face.
I groan, shivers travel the length of my spine.
Not now.
My nipples tighten nearly to the point of pain.
Fuck—precisely what I need—to fuck.
I’m halfway tempted to use my bat to rub against.
“This is all your fault,” I chastise what’s left of Sonja before yanking the blade from her neck and running back under the protection of the canopy of trees.
Dropping my bat in my bag, I lean against the tree, rip off my gloves, and toss them into my duffel as well.
No time to think about the consequences, I slip my hand down the front of my black leggings and part my pussy lips before finding my clit.
Cupping my breast, I pinch the hardened peak, twisting until I feel the bite of pain.
“Oh fuck,” I breathe, rolling my hips to create the tension I need.
Faster… fucking faster and harder.
I know I need more, and I have nothing with me that can do what needs to be done.
Whining in frustration, I try to find the rhythm that will take the edge off.
“Oh, you dirty little fox.”
My eyes snap open, meeting the gaze of a tall masked man. He’s in his own tactical gear. I can’t see his face, though. His hood masks any identifiable features. I know it’s not one of the assholes. They’re on the other side of the compound, and we’re safely three miles east of their hunting ground.
“Who—”
My words die on my tongue when he rips down my pants, shoving my fingers out of the way before he buries his face into my pussy.
I should be pushing him away, but my wanton ass threw reason out the window to get this nut.
“Holy fucking shit,” I gasp out between breaths. His pace is relentless, so perfect that it’s euphoric. His two fingers thrust into my greedy cunt, and my brain breaks.
“That’s right. Give me what I know you need. Come all over my face.” His muffled command, vibrating against my clit. “Put your legs over my shoulders, little fox. Let me fuck this sweet pussy with my tongue.”
Needing no further prompting, I throw both legs up, and he delivers his promise.
Two fingers become three and then become four. He swirls and pumps them inside of me, pounding until he hooks up and to the right, landing against my G-spot.
“Ohhh… ohhhh… ohhh shit,” I scream, praying it’s swallowed by nature without alerting anyone’s attention.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “That’s my fucking good girl.” He pulls his fingers out and lifts his face, only enough for me to see his honey-brown eyes. “Now come for me,” he orders.
He slams back in, lowering his mouth until he’s sucking me. My back bows, and I know I’m about to explode. Then he nips my clit, and I see nothing. For what feels like an eternity, I see nothing.
Heaving, I work hard to focus. The reality of everything that just transpired hits me in the chest.
“Shit,” I screech. “Shit… shit… shit.”
Hopping down, I wait for my shaky legs to settle before I turn, angling my neck. But I still can’t see his face. Even his eyes are hidden again.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demand, but get no response.
I don’t have time for this.
The reminder goes off in my head like a tornado warning system, lighting my ass on fire.
Scrambling, I grab my spare pair of gloves from my belt, but he doesn’t move an inch. My body is hyper-aware of him and the memory of his tongue between my legs.
“Over here,” Griff shouts, breaking me from my horny bitch thoughts.
I turn to walk away when I’m wrapped in strong arms and a hard chest.
Sweet baby Jesus.
“Not yet,” is all he says.
“Let me go,” I retort, but he doesn’t budge.
Irritation prickles my skin. I don’t like it when people don’t fucking listen to me.
“I said, let me the fuck go.” This time, I press my hands against the hidden stranger’s chest, preparing to push him when I’m thrust back, pants barely covering my ass.
Fucking prick.
The last words I hear are the command of a smoky, smooth voice.
“Run!”
As I tumble, I murmur, “Happy Fucking Birthday to me.”