Chapter 8 Josh
Josh
I was starting to understand why horror movies always had that one character who just quietly accepted the situation and tried not to think too hard about it.
Because the alternative was panicking.
And panicking, I was learning very quickly, did absolutely nothing when you were trapped inside a modern glass mansion in the woods with a bunch of psychos. And yes—Dori absolutely counted as one of them.
I spared a hurried glance at the two men covered in knives with paper donkey tails attached to them. Sorry—small knives, as Ronan had said.
I don’t know. Personally, knives are knives. But hey, maybe that’s just me.
It made me feel better that the dudes were apparently awful people, but only slightly, because who are we to act as judge, jury, and executioner?
On one hand, the guys had done horrible things, probably ruining the lives of their victims. But on the other hand, they still had families; they still were human beings.
What if Jeremiah feeds a stray dog every night on the way home from work? And then he’s just gone, and the dog is sad.
Okay, I think I’m losing the point—
“You okay?” Dori checked in quietly, standing behind my chair with his hands resting on the back of it.
“Yeah…”
“Hey, look,” he started, leaning over the back of the chair to be closer. “I’m sorry if I was too aggressive earlier.”
I snorted. “No, I get it. You were trying to impress the cool kids.”
Dori’s lip quirked up. “Shut up. Maybe I just knew you needed to choke on my cock right then.”
“Ugh,” I groaned. “I can’t believe they heard us.”
Dori nuzzled against the side of my head, then purred, “I say we should get a room while everyone else is playing the next game.”
I felt my face start to get hot. “Won’t somebody notice?”
“No way. They’ll be too busy chasing their prey. We’ll go to one of the guest rooms, lock the door, and if anybody does try to get in, I’ll just tell them we’re busy, and they’ll move along.”
I shifted in my seat. “I guess…”
Dori whispered, “Come on, angel. Let me make it up to you for earlier. I know you love my new tongue piercing.”
Swallowing thickly, I tried to discreetly readjust my now erect dick in my jeans. I did love his new tongue piercing. Like, a lot.
“Okay,” I agreed. “But I want a room with a bed.”
A sultry smile spread across Dorian’s face. “‘Course, babe.”
Across the room, Ronan stood, gathering everyone’s attention. “So, rules are simple,” he said. “Our two lovely guests—” Jeremiah made a strangled sound. “—will be given a five-minute head start. And, because I’m feeling fun, if they manage to evade us for forty-five minutes, they’ll be let go.”
I inhaled slowly. Somehow, I knew there was no way that either of these men could survive that long in this house.
Ronan was just toying with them by dangling freedom right out of reach.
Jeremiah and Mills were dragged forward and shoved against each other in the center of the room. The twins cut through the duct tape on their wrists and ripped it from their mouths.
Jeremiah gasped like someone who’d been drowning. “P-please,” he choked. “Please just let us—”
Hudson covered his mouth again. “Inside voices,” he hissed.
Mills stayed silent, the possibility of survival at the forefront of his mind.
Jeremiah just blubbered. I wasn’t sure which was smarter.
Jeremiah seemed to understand that there was no way in hell he’d end up escaping, and was already grieving his death.
Mills was forcing himself to stay calm, ready to fight for that chance for freedom.
It looked like he believed he had a true shot at outlasting all of us.
Drowning yourself in sadness and basically giving up?
Or holding out hope for the impossible?
Both would die, so I guess it didn’t matter.
Ronan continued on with the rules. “The playing field is the house. The doors and windows are all locked. All three floors are fair game.” He gestured broadly, and I followed the motion.
The house was big.
Really big.
The main floor alone was an open layout of glass walls, modern furniture, the couple’s main living room, a home gym, a half bath, and a sweeping staircase that curved up toward the second level.
On the second level—where we were now—was an office, two guest rooms complete with attached bathrooms, the kitchen, the formal dining room, and this living room we were currently in.
Upstairs were the master bedroom and bath, a third living room, and a small kitchen.
Lots of places to hide.
Ronan went on, “Nowhere is off limits. For us seekers, we can search alone or in pairs. And before you ask, yes, Oliver can stay with both of you.” He looked at the twins. “If you find one of our special guests, you can do whatever you like with them. You don’t have to kill them.”
Jeremiah shuddered.
I kept my face neutral, even when my stomach twisted slightly.
“But you can kill them, if you want.” He winked.
Don’t think about what happens after.
Don’t think about the knives.
Don’t think about the screaming.
Beside me, Dorian whispered in my ear, sensing where my thoughts were going, “Just a few more minutes, angel.”
I nodded rigidly.
“I have a question,” Mills announced, making us all stare at him in surprise.
Ro shrugged. “Okay. What is it?”
“Is our five-minute head start included in the forty-five minutes?”
“Oh, that’s a good question,” Ronan mused, brows raised as he thought about it. “I’d say yes. So technically, you’re only being hunted for forty minutes then.”
Mills took a breath and nodded once. “Okay.”
“Good,” said Ro, fixing his gaze at the still-shaking man next to Mills. “Jeremiah, do you have any questions?”
Jeremiah frantically shook his head, avoiding eye contact.
“Alright. Is everyone ready?”
When everyone answered in the affirmative, Ronan pulled out his phone and set the timer for five minutes.
He did a countdown for the dead men, starting the clock when he hit zero.
“Go!”
For half a second, nothing happened.
Then both men bolted.
It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t coordinated. It was the desperate, animal panic of two people who had just been told their lives depended on running fast enough.
Jeremiah stumbled first, nearly tripping over his own feet before catching himself and sprinting for the staircase. Mills went the other direction.
Jeremiah ran wildly, uncoordinated, his breath coming in ragged bursts even as he disappeared down the hall.
Mills ran like a man who thought he could win. He didn’t waste time looking around or panicking. He simply picked a direction and moved.
Within seconds, both of them had vanished deeper into the house.
Their footsteps echoed down separate hallways, then slowly became quieter, with the occasional noise reaching us.
Ronan leaned casually against the table and checked his phone. “Four minutes and fifty seconds,” he announced.
I tried not to picture the two men scrambling through the house, ripping open closet doors, checking under beds, searching desperately for somewhere—anywhere—to hide.
Don’t think about them.
“Three minutes, forty seconds,” Ronan hummed to himself.
Hayes idly spun one of the little knives between his fingers.
Hudson wandered over to the windows, peering out into the dark forest like a weirdo.
Lane leaned over to whisper something to Oliver that made him give a nervous laugh.
Dorian’s fingers traced slowly along the back of my neck.
“You’re tense,” he murmured.
“No I’m not.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m trying to focus on our plan.”
He chuckled quietly against my ear, “Good boy.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Two minutes, fifteen seconds,” Ronan checked the timer again.
“Think they’ll end up hiding together?” Lane asked.
“No way,” Hudson said immediately. “That’d be stupid.”
“One minute.”
The atmosphere in the room shifted.
Everyone straightened a little, like runners leaning forward before the starting gun.
“Thirty seconds.” Ronan pushed himself upright.
Dorian squeezed my shoulder. “Ready, angel?”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
“Five.”
“Four.”
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
Ronan’s phone chimed softly, signaling the end of the five minutes.
The room exploded into motion.
Hayes and Hudson shot toward the main staircase immediately, practically carrying Oliver between them.
Greyson stood and stretched before heading toward the hall with Lane trailing eagerly behind him.
Wes wandered back into the dining room.
Ronan disappeared. No, seriously. I didn’t see him leave, but he wasn’t here anymore.
Dorian grabbed my wrist once the room was empty. “Come on.”
We slipped out through the hallway before anyone could double back or notice we weren’t exactly hunting.
The corridor was quiet.
Our footsteps echoed softly against the hardwood floor as we moved deeper into the guest wing.
My heart was pounding, but not from fear.
Just nerves.
Excitement.
Horny excitement.
Dorian tried the first door we passed, but it was locked.
Second door—unlocked.
He pushed it open and pulled me inside quickly before shutting it behind us.
The room was huge, high ceilings with soft gray walls.
There was a king-sized bed with a thick white duvet flanked by two modern bedside tables with glass lamps.
There was even a sitting area by the window with a low couch, a small coffee table, and a door that probably led to the attached bathroom.
It looked like something out of a boutique hotel.
Dorian turned the lock with a quiet click.
I glanced toward the large wardrobe along one wall. “Uh…”
Dorian looked at me, questioning.
“Shouldn’t we check the room first?” I asked.
He tilted his head. “For what?”
“You know.” I gestured vaguely. “Hiding people.”
For a second, he just stared at me, then his mouth twitched. “Right.”
We both went quiet. Listening.
Nothing.
No rustling.
No breathing.
No sudden movement from the closet or under the bed.
After about thirty seconds, Dorian shrugged. “They probably moved to a different floor,” he said.
I nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
That made sense.