Chapter Twenty-Six
Wyck
Several hours deep, the party’s bones are starting to show, music still thumping, bodies swaying slower, sweat drying on skin that forgot it belonged to anything human. It’s well past midnight. I’ve had enough.
I want my girl. But first, we feed the dark.
I motion to the DJ. Music cuts like a vein.
“Gather ‘round,” I shout, voice slick with something sinister. “The night’s almost over. Almost.” Groans ripple through the crowd like dying things, and it makes me grin. These little sheep forget what cliff they’re standing on.
“Relax,” I say, eyes sweeping the drunk, the masked, the curious. “You know we never leave without spilling a little something.”
Now they’re listening.
“We’ve got one last game. But it’s not for the faint of heart.”
Karter stalks forward from the shadows, dragging chains behind him, metal clinks echoing over dead grass. Behind him, Onyx and Wells shove six figures into the light. Heads bagged in foam pig masks, blood crusted along the seams. Bound wrists. Bare feet. Filthy. Shaking.
The crowd goes still.
“These men crossed The Devils of Cliffside,” I growl, stepping forward. “And usually, that means a shallow grave. But tonight, you get to hunt them.”
Gasps. Cheers. Sick laughter.
“But only if you’re ready to bleed with them.”
Karter slams a fist into the table beside him. Dozens of Ghostface masks spill across it like spilled teeth.
“Take a mask. Become the hunter,” he commands. “Because these pigs are the prey.”
“How far can we go?” someone yells.
“Good question.” I grin like sin. “The field is sealed, ropes, signs, motion sensors. You’ll know where the line is. They won’t. Let them run blind. Let them think they’ve found safety.”
“But make no mistake,” Onyx purrs. “They won’t.”
“This is real,” I say. “No paintballs. No rubber knives. You bring them back bruised and bloody. Or not at all.”
The crowd's wild now, but I raise a hand.
“One rule,” I bark. “No women. Not for this.”
Instant outrage. “Are you fucking serious?”
“That’s sexist!”
“We’re not weak!”
“Save it,” I snap. “We know you can gut these assholes with your teeth, but they don’t play by the rules. These men would slit your throat to breathe another second. So do us a favor and accept the gift waiting inside.”
It works. The girls drift back toward the house, some pissed, some grinning, most just curious about what the Devils have waiting behind closed doors.
Once the last one's gone, I turn to the pigs.
“You get ten seconds,” I hiss. “Ten. Run. Pray. Beg. It doesn’t matter, you won’t survive the night.”
Karter steps in, voice low and sharp. “Run.”
They bolt.
Six bodies scatter like diseased rats in a maze built of nightmares.
I slip my goggles over my face. The world turns green and alive. Blood pulses in shadows. Fear sweats in droplets. My fingers twitch.
“You ready?” I ask my brothers. They nod, goggles locked in. Hearts still. Trained.
“Each of them,” I say, “has an appointment with death.”
No one else is allowed weapons, not the initiates, not the volunteers. But we’re Devils . We are the weapons.
This isn’t just fun.
It’s judgment.
This is how we clean our kingdom.
I move out slow. We give the pigs a head start. Let them believe there’s hope.
There isn’t.
We made sure of it, perimeter locked down, trails rigged with flashers, no way off the grounds unless we drag their bodies there.
They can’t see shit out here.
We can.
You fuck with us… you get hunted. That’s the rule. That’s the oath.
A branch snaps nearby.
I freeze.
Through the trees, I catch a twitchy silhouette, clumsy, breathing like he’s dying already.
Kevin.
Perfect.
I crouch low, watching him stumble through the dark, hands slapping bark, knees buckling every few steps.
He’s terrified. Good. I used to love playing with toys. Kevin’s just a new model.
“Kevin…” I whisper, letting my voice slither out like smoke. “Keviiiin…”
He whips around, nearly falls over. “Who the fuck is that?!”
“Which one of us do you think you should fear most?” Karter’s voice slams through the trees like a blade.
I hear the hit before I see it, CRACK, a grunt, then silence.
Karter steps into my view, his fist dripping, his smile pure Joker.
Kevin’s out cold, face-first in the dirt.
“I’ll take him back to the basement,” Karter says, dragging him like a bag of rot. “You finish the rest.”
I nod once.
And then I vanish into the trees.
The game’s not over.
The Devil’s just getting started.
Movement flickers in the corner of my eye.
“Kevin? Kevin!” a voice shouts, panicked.
Desperate.
“Why don’t you come join him, you little bitch,” Gage’s voice cuts through the dark like a serrated edge, the echo of his boots pounding wet earth as he barrels after the next pig. Simon.
I grin. They’ve got this under control. I’ve got a date with a different breed of coward.
Chad.
As I stalk forward, I catch Wells in my periphery, covered in blood, knuckles raw, dragging some poor fuck who thought it was a good idea to break into one of our old strongholds. Rookie mistake. He’ll wish he stayed home with his dick in his hand.
“Chad!” I call out, my voice teasing the shadows. “You little fuck. Thought you could run?”
Branches snap. Leaves rustle.
But it’s just a cat, black as ink, tail curling around my leg like a blessing from the Devil himself before vanishing into the trees.
Fine. Let Chad play ghost.
The night is heavy with sweat and rot. My mind wanders.
To her.
To the girl with the storm in her eyes and sin on her lips. My girl.
Athens.
I imagine the way she looks at me when I’m inside her, like I’m the only thing that matters in a world gone to hell. Her hands cupping my jaw, her nails clawing my skin, her moans echoing in my ears like worship.
I want her.
I want blood on my hands and her on my cock.
But first… I’ve got a rat to skin.
A flash of movement up ahead jerks me back. I freeze. There. Crouched low behind a crooked oak like he’s part of the fucking bark.
Poor bastard can’t see a damn thing out here.
But I see him .
No need to sneak. I want him to hear the Devil coming.
I slide on my brass knuckles. Pull the blade from my hip. Grip tight.
“Chad,” I call, my voice low, calm, venom-coated. “Chad, you fucking piece of shit… I’m going to murder you.”
He flinches. “Who the fuck, who’s there?”
I step into the clearing, let the moonlight bathe me in silver. “You will die out here.”
He bolts. Tries to.
But I’m already there.
Steel sinks into his side, and his scream punches through the trees like a siren song.
Yes.
Yes!
This is the part I live for.
His blood stains my hands. His panic feeds me. His pain hums in my bones like electricity.
“You stabbed me?!” he shouts, clutching his side.
“That’s not the only thing I’m going to do.”
I ram my fist into his face, the brass cracking bone with a sound like a snapped branch. He crumbles. Moaning.
“Beg me.”
“Fuck you,” he gasps, blood already filling his mouth.
“Wrong answer.”
I grab him by the throat and squeeze . I want to feel the life drain out of him, second by second.
“You think you can talk your way out of this?” I snarl. “After what you did to Kellan?”
He chokes. “I, it-it wasn’t me!”
“Don’t lie to me.” My vision pulses red. Rage sears through my spine. “So you didn’t cut his ears off? Or peel his fucking face off like a Halloween mask?”
Chad’s face contorts. Guilty. Caught.
“That’s right,” I growl. “You skinned our brother alive and buried his body on our land. Thought we wouldn’t recognize him without a face?”
I slam the blade into his gut, just enough to keep him conscious. Just enough to make him feel it.
Again.
And again.
One stab for each lie.
One cut for every scream.
Then I start slicing off his fingers, singing This Little Piggy as I go. His cries turn feral, snot and blood pouring down his chin. “I’m going to kill you, Wyck!” he shrieks. “My father will-”
“I hope he comes. I pray he tries.”
I lean in close, whisper against his ear.
“Because what’s coming for him makes this look like foreplay. And your whore of a mother? She’s going on the black market. By the time I’m done, they’ll be using her body to mop the fucking floors.”
His eyes go wide. He sobs.
“What about my sister? She’s just a baby-”
“She’ll be raised by Devils. Or maybe one of my Wicked Girls. You know what that is?” I laugh, sharp, feral. “They’re like us. But worse.”
I slice off his ear. His scream shakes the trees.
“Please! I’m sorry I killed him! But we had to!”
“You had nothing but a death wish.”
I don’t skin his face. Not yet. I flay small patches from his ribs, thighs, calves, pieces I plan to gift-wrap for his parents.
“You know what your mom’s getting for Christmas?” I whisper. “Your fucking head in a box.”
He passes out before I’m finished. Disappointing.
But not unexpected.
“Wyck!” Gage’s voice cuts through the trees.
“Over here!”
He arrives just as I wipe my blade across Chad’s shredded shirt.
“Is he dead?”
“Not yet. Tomorrow’s delivery day.”
Gage grins. “Fuck yes. I was hoping someone’s mom would get a box full of limbs.”
I smirk. “Peter?”
“Dead. I saw him slap his girl and later caught him breaking into the winery. Couldn’t let that slide.”
“Good.” I nod toward Chad. “Take him to the basement. I’ve got something else to handle.”
Gage lifts Chad like dead weight. “You want the others to meet you?”
“Yeah. Main house.”
He jogs off.
And I turn toward the house with bloodied fingers and a wicked grin.
The hunt’s over.
But my night with her is just beginning.
My cock aches with every step. She’ll be waiting. Wet. Wanting.
I lick a smear of blood from my palm.
“I’m coming for you, Little Fox.”
I make it back to the main house with blood on my hands and her taste in my mouth. The second I step inside, I pull out my phone and fire off a message to the others.
Me: Before you meet me at the main house, grab whatever you think you’ll need to ruin Athens, in the best fucking way.
The replies hit quick.
Dash: What do you mean?