Chapter Eleven, Chase
The woods wrapped around us as I gripped Heather’s hand tightly and we bolted through the undergrowth, the faint sound of Atlas’s pursuit the only noise aside from our panting.
If I hadn’t known him—his whims, wants, and his soul—I would have feared him.
He had a way of making the night his mistress and ruling it with such ease.
He didn’t trip in the dark. Didn’t stutter, or hit branches with his face, or crack twigs under his boots.
He was the wraith that our girl called him, and he fit it so well.
I was just lucky he was a friendly wraith to me.
Lucky that we’d spent the last few months dating and getting to know each other, and that I wasn’t his victim.
He’d had plenty of victims in our mission to slowly crumble my father’s empire.
The scent of earth and crushed greenery filled my lungs with each ragged breath as I kept running.
Early moonlight filtered through the dense canopy above, creating patches of silver that danced on the forest floor.
Honestly, for a tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere, it was almost pretty.
The woods and quiet made it easy for me to forget who I was and where I came from.
Who my father was.
I still felt like Giovanni out here. Not Reaper. Never Reaper.
Heather stumbled beside me, and I tightened my hold, keeping her upright. I was almost dragging her along, but it wasn’t my fault. She was clinging to me, and I was never going to let her go. It made it harder to run, but there were no complaints on my end.
“I swear, Gio,” she panted, her voice tinged with laughter despite her exertion, “if I trip and die, it’s on you.”
“You won’t die, amore mio,” I teased, though my chest burned from the effort of running for two.
“Unless you keep flirting instead of focusing.” So far since leaving the cabin, and our pretty serial killer beau, she’d told me I had a nice ass twice.
My dick looked good in my shorts at least four times.
And that she would leave me to be murdered in a zombie apocalypse because she thought I would look hot cosplaying a dead guy.
I wasn’t entirely sure how that made sense, and a tiny part of me was concerned she was into necrophilia, but still.
She was a distraction, even if I loved her.
She shot me a wicked grin, her blue hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. “I can multitask. I’m not a man.” She laughed wickedly, and I knew she was about to be a menace even further.
Her foot hooked behind mine, and I barely caught myself before face-planting into the dirt. “Really?” I snorted.
Her laughter bubbled out, wild and unrestrained. “What? It’s not my fault you’re slow.” Her hair whipped around her face, the wind pulling it. “I had to sacrifice you to the trees so I could survive. It’s every woman for themselves now, Reaper. I’m not dying for something as mediocre as a boy.”
I hurried back to my feet, grabbing her hand again when I easily caught up with her. “You’re going to regret that.” I breathed. “And it’s Gio. Not Reaper. Stop being a brat.”
“I’ll stop being a brat when I’m dead.” She stuck her middle finger up at me as she tried to run faster and failed to get out of my grip.
I didn’t slow down or respond, but the smirk pulling at my lips promised retribution.
The sound of Atlas’s steady pursuit behind us made my pulse spike.
He wasn’t running—not yet. But he was actively letting us hear him, which meant he was close to snatching us up for the rest of his wicked game.
The heavy crunch of his boots was unnervingly calm, and I didn’t have to look back to know he was wearing the ghost mask he loved so much.
The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and it wasn’t out of fear.
Turned out I rather enjoyed a masked man. Who knew? I didn’t.
Heather tugged at my hand again, breaking my focus. “Do you think he’ll really catch us? I want to win for once. Well, I win orgasms. But I mean, I wanna win the race.”
“Isn’t that the point of this game?” I asked, dodging a low-hanging branch. “He gets to be a sadist goth. You get your pretty pussy eaten and fucked, whilst you pretend to not want it. You always win.”
She panted harder, cheeks flushed. “You saying you don’t enjoy fucking me?” She teased.
“Not with whips and chains and macabre bullshit.” I grinned harder as I readied myself for my revenge.
“I like to take my time and romance you. To lay you down and treat you like the princess you think you are. That’s the best way for me.
Love, and romance and sweetness.” A sharp snap of a branch behind us made her flinch.
“You should run faster, amore mio. Atlas was grumpy when he left. He might not be in the mood to make you feel good for a while.”
If he edged her, I knew he would finish her off later on. But lately he’d been making her wait longer and longer, purely because he could. He got off on hearing her beg, and she got off on begging him. That was why we still chased each other in the woods, and why I bothered to play along.
If Heather had fun, I had fun. If she wanted to play innocent rabbit to Atlas’ maniacal fox, then I would play rabbit too. My rabbit was just bigger and had vicious teeth.
It also had no qualms about playing dirty.
“I didn’t think you’d be such deadweight. I thought I could win and be the king,” she quipped, then squealed as I suddenly pulled her to the ground with me.
We hit the forest floor in a tangle of limbs and leaves.
Before she could scramble away, I rolled on top of her, pinning her wrists to the dirt.
Her breath hitched, her chest heaving beneath mine as I smirked down at her.
I knew she liked being beneath me, but I was not about to show her a good time.
I was going to punish her in a way I was comfortable with, because she really was a menace.
“Caught you,” I hummed, my voice low. “What was that about me being slow?”
She squirmed, her laughter breaking free. “You’re cheating! This isn’t fair—”
“Tripping me wasn’t fair, either.” I dug my fingers into her sides, finding her most ticklish spots. Her laughter turned desperate, her legs kicking uselessly as she tried to buck me off.
“Giovanni! Stop, stop—”
“Apologize,” I demanded, though I couldn’t stop my own grin.
“I’ll never apologize!” She gasped and with a sudden twist, and a filthy shot to my ribs, she slipped free of my grasp, rolling to her feet and darting away into the darkness. “Smell you later, motherfucker!” She called over her shoulder.
I groaned, brushing dirt and leaves off my clothes as I scrambled up. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, but a second later my laughter broke free, just as loud.
At least, it was until her giggles faded into the night, and the forest closed in around me, the silence almost choking.
I turned in a slow circle, my heart thudding in my ears.
The faint rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl were the only sounds I could make out, and suddenly, it didn’t feel like so much of a game anymore.
“Heather?” I called, my voice barely carrying through the thick trees. The knot in my stomach tightened as I realized how easily I’d lost sight of her. “Amore mio, where are you?”
No response. A cold chill crept up my spine, the weight of the darkness pressing down on me.
It was a game, and I was sure she was safe.
But I couldn’t help worrying when she was out of my sight.
One mistake on our part, and my father could win the battle we’d slowly been waging against him.
His gangsters would find us; his paid hitmen would kill us.
His own hands would try to do horrific things to my lucky Heather, the same way they had to Missy… it was unacceptable. Foolish, maybe, to run around and get separated when we were still in danger.
I was forgetting more and more each day that passed, all the things I’d been taught—how a mafia man had to act. And I couldn’t do it. I needed to be smarter. Sharper. I had to be the Reaper. Not Gio. Just until my new little family was safe.
As I was debating ways to make the woods safer, a sharp crack of a branch behind me sent my heart into overdrive. Before I could react, a heavy weight slammed into my side, sending me sprawling, and the gun I was reaching for on instinct into the dirt.
Atlas.
His strength was undeniable, his movements precise and calculated as he pinned me to the ground on my back.
The ghost mask loomed above me, its hollow eyes almost glowing in the faint light.
I hadn’t heard a damn thing as he’d approached, and once more I had a thought about how glad I was that we liked each other.
“Caught you,” he murmured, his Russian-tinged voice a low rumble as he reached into the back of his low-slung black jeans, withdrawing his ornate-handled knife. “I wonder what I should do now? There are so many options.”
“I was distracted,” I managed, my breath catching as I struggled beneath him and he slowly trailed the blade along my flesh. “Plus, you’re made of the dark and creepiness. You’re always going to win when we play in it, fantasma.”
Atlas tilted his head, the mask giving him an eerie, inhuman quality. I could see why Heather found it attractive. I did too. It was almost like it wasn’t Atlas there. It was just a monster without a face or soul, readying up to eat you alive any way he saw fit.
Sometimes it was fun to play with a monster consensually. It felt better to be a part of the game than just another victim of an actual monster that roamed the vicious world.
“You think I ever play fair?” His voice was soft, almost teasing, but the weight of his presence was suffocating in the best way. My gaze flicked to his mouth—hidden behind the mask—then back to his eyes, unreadable behind the hollowed sockets.