CHAPTER 23
THE PUNISHER
I have to hand it to my father – he knows how to make an impression.
I’m sitting in one of five sleek SUV’s, the convoy pulling into a gravel clearing that feels more like a stage than a meeting point.
The tension inside the car is suffocating, the other bidders keeping their cards close, their faces blank masks of indifference.
But I know better. Any one of these bastards could snap, turn rabid, and turn this into a bloodbath just to claim our prizes as their own.
My fingers drum against my watch. Ten minutes.
Through the tinted window, I catch sight of the guards – five of them, laughing like they don’t have a care in the world.
But their eyes betray them as they track a woman approaching.
She’s a vision of chaos. Her raven-black hair pulled back into a severe braid, a crossbow slung over her shoulder like an accessory.
Everything about her screams danger, from the way she moves with theatrical precision to the oversized ego practically radiating off her. She’s a serial killer.
More contenders filter towards the gates as cars empty, their gazes fixed on something I cannot see.
The guards block my view, but whatever it is, it’s enough to make Ms Darkheart pause.
Her hand moves to the crossbow, her fingers curling around it with a predator’s ease.
Whatever’s caught her attention, it’s about to get interesting.
I slip out of the car, easing the door shut behind me, the faint click swallowed by the night.
Keeping my distance, I shadow the others, careful not to draw the guards’ attention.
Their eyes are sharp, and the last thing I need is to give them a reason to notice me, to recognise me.
Then I see her – Tarran. She’s a blur of movement, slipping into the woods like a ghost. My chest tightens.
She’s alive. For now.
But the clock is ticking.
I’m coming for you, Tarran.
One of the guards steps forward. ‘Can I have your attention, please? Welcome to the 50 th Anniversary of the Wilderness Warfare Games. As we gather to celebrate this milestone, let’s go over the rules to ensure a thrilling and fair experience.
For our seasoned veterans, this will be a refresher. For newcomers, pay close attention.
The game will last up to seventy-two hours. Your objective will be to claim your prize or prizes before the allotted time. Failure to do so forfeits your prize, and they’ll be resold.
You may hunt and do as you wish with your prey. However, this year, there’s a twist! When the red light shines, your prey must stay still – in case you don’t see the red light, you will be notified via your headset and your prey’s collar will glow red.
THE RED LIGHT RULE: During red light, if your prey moves, they will be eliminated by snipers, so while the prey is still, you can use this time to catch up.
HEADSET: Each participant will have a headset – a one way audio that will guide you to the GPS location of your prey using ‘warmer’ and ‘colder’ cues.
Once you eliminate your prey, follow the instructions given to you via your headset and return to base.
AND THE NEW TWIST? During red light, you may hunt someone else’s prey!
Is everything clear?’ Everyone nods. ‘Good luck. Let the games begin.’
Great!
As the clock strikes, the gates groan open, the sound reverberating through the tense air like a harbinger of what’s to come. The bidders scatter, a blur of bodies sprinting into the woods. I wait, letting their chaos unfold as I cross the threshold.
My gaze locks onto a guard, recognition flashing in his eyes.
That’s all it takes – a split second – and I move.
Without hesitation, my hand snaps out, wrestling the rifle from his grasp.
His startled expression fuels the fire burning inside me, the same fire that has brought me to this moment. This is mine.
The weapon feels solid in my hands as I step forward. Lifting it, I peer through the scope, the crosshairs zeroing in on the towering watchtower ahead. The sniper perched at the top is unaware I’m looking, his back turned, his focus elsewhere. A mistake he won’t get the chance to regret.
Lowering the rifle slightly, I shift my attention to the guards.
They stand with their backs to me, their laughter rolling through the clearing like they’ve already won.
But I heard them earlier – the way they spoke about the girls.
They’re predators in their own right, their camaraderie laced with cruelty.
Aiding and abetting the killing of innocent girls.
No, that just doesn’t sit right with me.
My pulse slows, a razor-sharp focus settling over me. I lift the gun to my shoulder, steadying it against the familiar weight.
‘Sorry, Sal,’ I whisper, knowing he wouldn’t approve. Five bullets, five heads. Five dead bodies.
I sink into the woods, the damp earth muffling my steps as I close the distance. Ms Darkheart moves ahead, her heavy black boots sinking into the mud with each stride.
She raised her bow at my girl.
When the red light beams over the landscape, Ms Darkheart holds her breath, her eyes scanning for the other hunters, uncertain of her next move. In the stillness, a cry pierces the silence, and her eyes narrow as she pulls back her bow.
I distance myself from her, raising my rifle to find the source of the cry.
There, in a small opening, is the girl from the cellar – Jessica.
Ms Darkheart draws her string taut, aiming for an impossible kill shot.
The best she could manage would be to maim, leaving the girl to bleed out in agony.
I can see the sniper too has his sights set.
For her, the game is already over, so with a single, precise shot, I put the girl out of her misery with a bullet to the back of her head.
Ms Darkheart’s bow falls from her grasp, and the girl from the cellar is spared the agony of a slow, painful death. Darkheart’s blood-curdling scream of frustration echoes through the trees, and the corners of my mouth curl as I watch her torment.