10. REAPER
10
REAPER
F rustration burns through me.
Ever since my run-in with Siren, I’ve been in a perpetual state of hardness. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get my mind off her. I can’t stop thinking about the way she smelled or how her body felt pressed up against mine. I can’t force my mind not to picture the way she challenged me or erase the sweet hint of her arousal in the air.
She was wet for me, and I was fucking ruined.
Not a single person I’ve ever met in my lifetime has ever had the balls to step up to me like that. They know who and what I am the second their terrified stares meet mine, and as a general rule, they run in the opposite direction. Yet despite her fear, she raised that fucking chin of hers, met my eye, and stood her ground. It was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
Sure, I could have ended it there, walked away and madly jerked off until I put it all behind me. Only when she walked out of that alley and had the audacity to suggest I didn’t have the balls to man up and fuck her, I was ruined. But there’s no doubt about it now, the next time I see her, I will give her exactly what she wants.
The whole time her body was pressed against mine, all I wanted was to bend her over and hear her scream for me, but what can I say? I was a gentleman. I didn’t even threaten to kill her. Well, I mean, I didn’t threaten that straight away. I waited. I was enjoying myself too much, and to be honest, enjoying myself with a target isn’t something I often get to do.
I’ve said it before, and I’m sure I’ll say it again, Siren intrigues me, and I suddenly find myself a little less interested in War Games, and completely focused on her. It’s a real shame that I will eventually have to kill her, but I don’t see why we can’t spend the next twenty-five days making every second count.
I need to hear her scream for me. Taste her. Feel her. Watch how she rides my cock, and despite not having touched her yet, I can already tell that with her, it will be incredible. Siren isn’t the type to hold back. She’ll wind me up until I can’t possibly take it anymore, and only then will she ride me harder.
I can’t fucking wait, but what the hell am I supposed to do about this fucking erection until then? Like I said, I’m in a perpetual state of hardness. The second I think I’ve dealt with it, it comes right back, ready to cause me hell, and the only thing that’s going to put me at ease is sinking into her tight little cunt.
Until then, my only hope is the next best thing—taking someone’s life.
Striding through the city center, I track down the brothers—The Boneyard Slayer and The Texan Reaper. I hadn’t intended on stumbling across them tonight. My plans had mostly included hiding out by Siren’s villa and making sure she didn’t do anything stupid enough to get herself eliminated from the games before I settled my score with her. But now that the brothers have reared their ugly heads, I can’t possibly resist figuring out what—or who—has drawn them out.
For the past week, they’ve kept their heads down, laid low and waited for everyone else to do the brunt of the work. They don’t strike me as the type to be capable of tracking and hunting in the way a trained assassin would. They’re more like opportunists, picking their victims by whoever seems to be the closest when the mood strikes. When it comes to brains, these two have none. Which could only mean another contender is close by.
I watch them meticulously. Tracking their every step while keeping concealed. I don’t have the intention to take them out tonight. It’s too soon in the games to make such a big move. I need to lure them into a false sense of security, and just when they think they’ve got this shit in the bag, I’ll be happy to remind them of their positions—six feet under.
The brothers stand on either side of the road, and I watch from above, situated on the roof. The Texan Reaper is leaning against a storefront, cigarette in hand, as he tries to appear inconspicuous. He watches his brother from the corner of his eye before flicking his gaze back to a takeout store, intently watching the door.
His brother takes up residence in a bus shelter, leaning back on the bench with his foot propped on his knee. He scrolls through his phone, his attention anywhere but the store that houses his current victim, making it clear which of the brothers is in charge.
The Boneyard Slayer is nothing but muscle for his brother’s benefit, and from the look of it, he probably took a few too many hits to the head as a kid. However, it begs the question, who the fuck is currently purchasing takeout?
A few minutes pass before the door opens and a scrawny surfer-looking guy steps out with his food in hand, and I let out a sigh. Sharkbait. I didn’t have high hopes for this guy, and quite frankly, this is going to be a simple, quick kill.
From what little information I’ve been able to find, the guy received his name from killing his victims and dumping their bodies into shark-infested waters in an attempt to destroy the evidence. Naturally, it didn’t work. Only an idiot would think that was a flawless plan. I mean, sure, I’ve left bodies to be eaten before. There’s nothing better than natural selection playing out right before your eyes, but if you’re going to take calculated risks, you need to make sure they’ll pay off. Areas with an over-population of hungry foxes or wolves is generally a foolproof plan, and you better make sure it’s a fresh kill. But a cold dead body floating in the ocean? Fuck no. Sure, a shark might take a nibble, but when he realizes it’s not a tasty seal, he’ll abandon it and leave it floating in the ocean to inevitably wash up on shore.
I consider walking away, not particularly interested in spending my night watching the brothers make their kill, but despite my boredom, I stay, finding myself curious about their hunting style. I’ve never been one to work with others. I don’t like coordination, and I sure as hell don’t like sharing my plans. As a general rule, I don’t play well with others, but their dynamic intrigues me, and when it comes to the time for me to take their lives, I want to know exactly what I’m in for.
The second Sharkbait fully steps out of the store, he turns to his right and walks directly toward the brothers. Fucking idiot. Does he not sense them there? Get chills down his spine when he realizes he’s in imminent danger? Where are his basic survival instincts?
He starts unwrapping a burger and takes a hasty bite as though he hasn’t eaten in days before crossing the road right in front of the bus shelter. Though to his credit, The Boneyard Slayer is still so buried in his phone that he doesn’t even realize his target is right in front of him. The Texan Reaper on the other hand is watching it all with a keen eye while glaring at his brother to get his shit together.
Sharkbait steps up onto the walkway, just past the bus shelter, and continues on his way, his every brain cell fully focused on the burger in his hand. I realize this guy thinks he’s going to sail right through to the end by simply hiding out. He hasn’t got a damn clue that he’s a weak player, and that right there is one hell of a fatal mistake.
Fuck. These games are really starting to bore me. Why include so many incompetent players? I thought I was coming here to play with the best of the best. Shadow and Siren are obviously excluded from that. So far, they’re the only two who have been able to show just a shred of promise, and the only two I’m going to struggle to end, while everyone else is nothing but fodder to be played with.
With their target beginning to put distance between them, The Texan Reaper pushes off the wall and stalks Sharkbait down the street, and I follow them along the roof, simply stepping from one rooftop to the next. It’s not long before The Boneyard Slayer finally glances up to realize he missed his shot and hastily shoves his phone in his pocket and begins rushing to catch up. Only the sound of his rushed feet on the pavement has Sharkbait stiffening.
I roll my eyes. It’s about time the fucker realized he was in trouble.
His burger is lowered from his mouth, and he glances over his shoulder to see The Boneyard Slayer hurrying after him, and to be honest, it’s not a pretty sight. The Boneyard Slayer looks like an overweight ex-football player who’s trying to play with his kids, but the fitness just isn’t there anymore, and even from my vantage point on the roof, I can hear his heavy panting.
Sharkbait’s eyes widen in horror, and it’s clear he had no idea how easy he was to track. He pauses for just a second, and as he frantically looks around to make a game plan, he finally notices The Texan Reaper across the road.
My brow arches, waiting to see what will happen, but more importantly, needing to learn their style. Sharkbait all but shits his pants, and as The Texan Reaper steps off the sidewalk with the intent to cross the road, Sharkbait takes off, sprinting down a back alley.
I skip across to the next roof, giving myself a better viewpoint, and as Sharkbait bolts down the alley, the brothers follow closely. I shake my head. I should have known Sharkbait would be foolish. He doesn’t strike me as the type to have basic survival instincts.
The alley he chose is a dead end, and all he’s managed to do is back himself into a corner. Knowing your surroundings is the first rule of the business. You always need an escape plan. Every time you step out of the house, you need to know where you are at all times and how to disappear—especially in a town where the cops are aware of War Games. Hell, over the past week, Blue Springs managed to bring in some cops from the next city over and a few FBI agents as backup, not that it’ll be an issue for me or any of the other top killers in these games. While the FBI certainly are good at what they do, we’re better.
As for Sharkbait, he seems like the type to make colossal mistakes and have his ass hauled away in cuffs. Though considering tonight’s latest mistake, he won’t ever see the light of day again.
The brothers slow their advance, allowing Sharkbait more than enough time to work himself into a cold sweat, and though it’s a little late, it looks like those basic survival instincts have finally kicked in.
The brothers stalk him like prey, creeping deeper into the alley, and as I watch them, my earlier thoughts are confirmed once again. The Texan Reaper is the one calling the shots. His brother follows his lead and waits to be told what to do. I can’t help but wonder why. Is The Boneyard Slayer not capable of calling the shots? Does he not have the brains to pull off a kill by himself? Though one thing is for sure, despite this being a team effort, something tells me that The Texan Reaper is the one who’s going to walk away with Sharkbait’s identity tonight.
Sharkbait makes a move, realizing he still holds his burger in his hand, and in a split-second decision, launches it at The Texan Reaper’s face. Both of the brothers are caught off guard and Sharkbait uses the distraction to make his move, sprinting as fast as he can between them.
The Texan Reaper roars in frustration as the burger lingers on his face, and as Sharkbait tries to make a run for it, The Boneyard Slayer’s hand whips out, clutching Sharkbait by the back of his man bun.
He hauls him back and throws him hard against the brick wall of the alley. I can practically hear his skull crack with the force of the throw, but he barely gets a chance to cry out as the brothers launch their brutal attack on him, letting out every bit of their anger.
It’s disgusting. I don’t like brutal kills like this.
Taking a life is supposed to be poetic. There’s supposed to be an art to it, but this is just messy. It’s anger and revulsion, brute strength against a man who had no hope of defending himself. I don’t like it; there’s no honor or compassion here, but it’s not my problem to deal with right now. I’ll make it right when I end their lives.
With disgust pulsing heavily through my veins, I don’t bother to watch the end of their brutal kill, but as I turn to go, something in the darkness catches my attention.
Shadow.
Only she’s not watching the brothers make their kill, she’s watching me.
“HEY!” I call out, and in a split second, she’s gone.
Fuck.
I take off at a sprint, hurrying after her and tracking her into the darkness. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, running down the street and bypassing the alley where the brothers are violently taking a life. I search the darkened street, trying to listen to my senses, but just like the first time I went after Shadow, she vanishes like a ghost.
What the fuck?
How has this kid evaded me twice now?
“I just want to talk,” I say into the darkness, my gut telling me she’s around here somewhere. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
I stand in the middle of the road, my hands outstretched as if to show my intentions, but I suspect this kid has done more than her fair share of research on me. She knows exactly what I’m capable of, and just how quickly I can make it happen, so it’s up to her to decide if she’s capable of trusting my intentions.
I don’t move an inch for well over five minutes, sensing her around me somewhere, and just when I’m about to give up and walk away, Shadow emerges from the darkness, striding right into the center of the deserted street, staring at me just as I stare at her.
She doesn’t speak, simply waits to figure out what the hell I’ve waited here for, and honestly, I haven’t got a clue what I should be asking her.
“How?” I ask, that simple word covering just about everything I need to know.
“How what?” she throws back, making sure to keep a distance.
“How are you capable of evading me?”
Shadow holds my stare and shrugs her shoulders as though it’s no big deal. “Same way you’re capable of evading everyone else, I guess. I was trained that way.”
“I’ve trained myself over the past fifteen years, perfecting my skills and pushing myself to be the best. I have been tortured, been through excruciating training, been shot at, and pushed myself until I bled. I have died and come back more times than I can count. Nobody at this level is capable of achieving what I have achieved without years of brutal training and significant trauma. You are a child, nothing more than a twelve-year-old girl. You shouldn’t be capable of evading me, yet here we are.”
“First off, I’m thirteen. And yes, it is entirely possible for me to evade you if you consider that perhaps you are not the best in your field. I am.”
“You are?”
“Yes.”
“And how did you possibly become that way? People like us don’t just get to be the best without going through hell first.”
Shadow scoffs. “What? Like taking a stroll through hell is hard? I call that a normal Tuesday.”
My brow arches, and I take a slight step toward her, watching as her sharp stare tracks me. She backs up, her hands preparing to grab a weapon.
“Don’t do it,” I warn her. “Like I said, I don’t want to hurt you, but if you make a move, I’ll have no choice but to retaliate, and I don’t think that right here in the middle of some deserted street is really where you want to test whose reflexes are faster.”
The slightest flash of unease appears in her blue eyes, and it’s enough to have her backing up again, her steps filled with hesitation. She’s uncomfortable, unsure of what she should do or what move to make, and while she might possibly be the best, she’s also still just a kid.
Her gaze shifts, checking our surroundings, and when I inch toward her again, she looks ready to bolt. “Do you have somewhere safe to stay? Food? Water? A bed?”
Shadow scowls at me. “I know how to look after myself. I’m not a child.”
“Answer the question.”
She clenches her jaw, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s being snappy with me because I’m questioning her ability to care for herself or if this is standard thirteen-year-old-girl behavior. I’m going to guess option number two.
“Why do you keep stalking that Siren girl like some kind of creeper? You’ve gotten close more than enough times to take her out, but you never do. Why?”
I arch my brow. “Have you been watching me that much?”
“I watch everybody.”
I stare back at her, and the silence begins to grow heavy when I finally respond, figuring if I were to show a little vulnerability, then she’ll be willing to be honest in return. “First of all, Siren is not a girl. She’s a woman. And as for why I haven’t eliminated her yet, that’s complicated.”
“You like her or something?”
“Or something,” I agree. “Now, don’t act as though your little change of topic didn’t go unnoticed. Do you have somewhere safe to stay and are you capable of feeding yourself?”
She clenches her jaw again, and this time, I don’t wait for her to change the topic or throw teenage bullshit my way. I dig into my pocket and pull out my wallet before fishing out a couple hundred dollars. “Hotels are expensive and you’ll burn through this in days,” I tell her, placing the cash on the ground in front of me, knowing damn well she’s not going to try and get any closer. “There’s a lot of holiday homes down near the lake. Try and find one of them instead—an empty one, preferably with no security system. Once you’ve secured a home, take yourself grocery shopping. Bread, milk, cereal. All the necessities.”
“I . . . I don’t know how to cook.”
I nod. “You should be able to find frozen, ready-made meals in the grocery store. You just put them in the microwave. If you try to eat takeout each night, you’ll run out of cash.”
She nods again, only this time, she drops her gaze, and instead of seeing a cunning young killer, I see nothing but a lost little girl. “Shadow,” I say, demanding her attention again. She lifts her gaze back to me, and if I thought there was any way she’d let me help her further, I would offer everything I have. “If you’re in trouble, you come to me. Do you understand?”
“I can handle myself,” she argues.
“You can barely feed yourself,” I remind her. “There will come a time in the coming weeks when these games start running out of contenders, and you’ll find yourself with a target on your back. You’re just a kid, Shadow. I don’t want to see your name listed among those who’ve been eliminated.”
“You won’t.”
“See to it that I don’t.”
And with that, I back up a few steps, leaving the cash in the middle of the street before finally turning and walking away. Then, just before I reach the alley where the brothers just brutally killed Sharkbait, I turn back and stare up the street, relieved when I see no sign of Shadow or the cash on the asphalt.