Chapter Thirty Six
Twisted Game
Rachel Williams
Bishop shifts in front of me, blocking Beth’s path, but I can still see her. Those bright, fever-sharp eyes fixed on us like she’s studying a painting she’s obsessed with.
She doesn’t look shaken. She doesn’t look afraid. She looks… satisfied.
“Destroying your connection wasn’t the whole point,” she says, voice soft, almost tender.
My stomach knots. My fingers tighten in Bishop’s shirt. I don’t know if I’m grounding him or myself.
“What do you mean?” I whisper, though Bishop’s body absorbs most of the sound.
Beth’s smile curves slow and cruel. “It was about proving a truth.”
Bishop tenses. I feel it ripple through him.
Beth lifts her chin, eyes gleaming. “Love doesn’t save people. It ruins them.”
My breath stutters. She says it like she’s reciting scripture.
“You don’t know anything about love,” I say, stepping half a pace out from behind Bishop before I even realize I’m doing it.
Beth’s gaze snaps to me, hungry and delighted. “Oh, but I do. I’ve watched it. Studied it. Pulled it apart piece by piece. Ive been destroyed by it.”
She takes a step closer, boots grinding against the shale.
“I watched couples cling to each other while they died. I watched sisters turn on each other when the fear got to them. I watched husbands beg for their wives’ lives and wives offer their husbands’ throats if it meant they could run.”
Her voice drops to a chilling calm.
“Connection is fragile. And breaking it? Watching it shatter?” She exhales, almost trembling. “That’s the real thrill.”
My pulse pounds in my ears. Bishop shifts again, shielding me, but Beth keeps talking; keeps peeling back the truth she’s been hiding.
“You two were supposed to break,” she says. “That was the plan. Push you far enough that you’d turn on each other. Make you choose who lived. Make you choose who died.”
I swallow hard. “We didn’t.”
“No,” Beth says, eyes blazing. “You didn’t. And that’s the twist.”
She points at me.
“You didn’t break when you killed David.”
My breath catches. The memory hits me like a blow. The rock in my hand, the scream, the fall.
Beth turns her finger toward Bishop.
“And he didn’t break when he realized he’d do anything, anything- to keep you alive.”
Her smile sharpens into something triumphant.
“You’re not prey anymore,” she whispers. “You’re a pair.”
A shiver runs through me.
Beth spreads her arms, welcoming the violence she knows is coming.
“And pairs,” she says, voice trembling with exhilaration, “are the hardest to destroy. Which means-”
She leans forward, eyes blazing.
“Im going to enjoy this.”
Bishop steps forward, every muscle coiled, every breath sharp.
Beth’s smile doesn’t falter.
“Come on,” she whispers. “Show me how far you’ll go for her.”
Then she pulls out the gun.
The world narrows in the glint of the metal.
Bishop freezes mid-step, muscles locked, eyes blazing with a fury that turns instantly into something sharper.
Beth smiles like she’s been waiting for this exact moment.
“You get to choose,” she says softly. “Which one dies first.”
My heart slams against my ribs. The air thins.
Bishop shifts, putting himself fully between me and the gun, but Beth angles it slightly, just enough to remind us she can see around him. Just enough to remind us she’s in control.
“Don’t,” Bishop growls, voice low, lethal.
Beth’s smile widens. “Oh, I’m not killing both of you. That would be wasteful. I just want to see what happens when you’re forced to choose.”
She steps closer, boots crunching on the shale.
“Will you offer yourself?” she asks Bishop. “Throw yourself at the bullet to save her?”
She tilts her head.
“Or will you let her die so you can live long enough to kill me?”
My pulse is a roar in my ears.
Bishop doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. He’s a wall of tension and violence.
Beth’s gaze flicks to me.
“And you,” she murmurs. “Will you beg him to save you? Or will you tell him to run?”
Her eyes gleam with sick delight.
“This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. The moment the connection snaps.”
I swallow hard, forcing air into my lungs. “Beth… you don’t have to do this.”
She laughs softly. “Oh, Rachel. I already did. The second you two decided you mattered to each other, this moment became inevitable.”
The gun shifts, just a hair. Toward Bishop. Then toward me. Then back again.
She’s savoring it.
Bishop’s voice is a low, deadly whisper. “Point that gun at me. Not her.”
Beth’s smile turns razor-sharp. “I knew you’d say that.”
Her finger rests lightly on the trigger.
I feel the world tilt again, but this time something inside me steadies.
I step closer to Bishop’s back, pressing my hand to his spine.
“Bishop,” I whisper, “don’t choose. We don’t play her game.”
Beth’s eyes light up. “Oh, but you will.”
She raises the gun.
And the forest holds its breath.