16. SIREN
16
SIREN
A hhhh fuck. Mila is going to kill me, but I can’t bring myself to regret what happened with Reaper last night. He was everything. Rough when I needed him to throw me around, and a gentleman when I needed him to show me he was more than just this mystical monster living in my mind.
But the sex.
Holy fucking shit.
A man like Reaper needs to be cloned a million times, and then all those clones need to host workshops about how to satisfy your woman. Because damn. I have never been so intensely satisfied in my life, but the only issue with being dicked down so well is that it leaves a woman desperate for more. Don’t get me wrong, it was the first time in ten days I’ve been able to sleep without a desperate need clawing from within, but by the time I woke up again this morning, that need was even worse.
I need Death’s dick, and I need it now!
“What are you doing?” A voice suddenly sounds in my ear.
I cringe. Mila is the one person I can’t live without, and I absolutely adore her, but she’s also the only person who’s going to be able to see right through my bullshit.
“Uhhhh . . . Just out for a walk,” I say, making my way down the main street of Blue Springs and doing what I can to keep my gaze locked on Raven across the street.
“Bullshit. In the eight years I’ve known you, you’ve never once gone out for a voluntary walk. You’re on the hunt.”
“Am not!”
“Lie to me again and I’ll reach through this phone and punch you right in the tit.”
Shit.
“Okay, fine,” I say with a heavy sigh, crossing the road as Raven rounds a corner. “I’m tracking Raven and figured I’d go for it. This is the first time since day one that she’s fucked up enough to be able to be tracked. Who knows when she’ll emerge from her hiding spot again.”
“Siren,” Mila whines. “I thought you were going to lay low for a while. You’re the only one putting in any work around there. Let the others risk their lives instead.”
I groan. “I can’t just walk away now. I’m too close. Besides, I’ll make it quick and then head straight back to the villa.”
“Walk away,” she says. “You’ve walked away a million times before. If circumstances aren’t right, you always walk away, and right now, circumstances aren’t right. You’ve been doing too much, plus don’t act like I don’t know that you went out for a late-night run last night. I saw the surveillance feed. Reaper came for you, and considering you’re still alive, he didn’t just come for you, he came for you, which begs the question, WHY THE FUCK HAVEN’T YOU SAID ANYTHING ABOUT IT YET?”
Ahhh shit. I should have known she’d have the notifications on for the villa surveillance cameras. She would have seen Reaper appear in my kitchen in the middle of the night and watched as he stared down the camera, waiting for me to emerge. She would have seen the way he put me on the counter and then how I handcuffed him to my fridge before making a break for it.
Considering all of that, I’m surprised she’s waited so long to bitch me out about it.
“Ooop, Raven’s walking into a bad cell service area. You’re breaking up.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Siren. I checked this shit before you even got to Blue Springs. The cell service is perfect. There are no dead spots. Now quit stalling and tell me all about your night with Reaper. What happened? Did he get you on your knees?”
A stupid grin stretches across my face as I follow Raven off the main street and through a park. “Oh, he got me on my knees alright,” I laugh. “It was incredible, Mills. When I cuffed him to the refrigerator, I told him if he could catch me, he could have me any way he wanted me, and shit. When that man is determined, he doesn’t disappoint.”
“Holy shit. I can imagine. A man like that . . . fuck. He was rough, wasn’t he? He doesn’t strike me as the kind who wants to take it slow and gentle.”
“You’re damn right about that,” I murmur, remembering the night so well that everything below the belt clenches with need, desperate to do it all over again.
Mila laughs. “Shit, Siren. I’m going to need a complete run down. Start right from the beginning, and then you’re going to have to tell me how the hell you managed to even breathe around a man like that. He’s terrifying, and yet, he’s the most delicious man to ever walk the earth. Oh, what about those tattoos? They’re everywhere, aren’t they? Holy shit. Why haven’t you started talking yet? How am I supposed to live vicariously through you if you won’t open your damn mouth?”
A stupid grin stretches across my face. “Have I told you about my awkward dinner with Shadow and Reaper last night?”
“I swear to all that’s holy, Siren. TELL ME ABOUT THE FUCKFEST WITH REAPER!”
Putting my best friend out of her misery, I launch into my story, giving her every last detail, starting from the moment he barged in on my kill with Eagle, right down to the way he followed me back to the villa. I tell her about the way his fingers dug into my skin and the way his body rolled with every powerful thrust.
I give it to her straight, not daring to skip a single detail as I follow Raven through the park and down under the bridge that arches over the massive lake. My gaze shifts toward the water’s edge, looking at the very spot Reaper and I had spent almost two hours at last night, and just as I start to brag about the way he made me come on my knees, Raven appears right in front of me, her brow arched and a blade clutched tightly in her right hand.
“Ahh shit,” I mutter to Mila, making yet another mistake in these games and allowing myself to get distracted while on a hunt. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”
“Good luck,” Mila says just before the line goes quiet, and with that, I’m left to face down Raven and finally put this bullshit between us to bed.
Raven and I have competed for the same contracts for years. The issue is that she hates being second best and is a cold-hearted bitch. She tried to pin four of her kills on me back in Seattle. I guess she hoped the FBI would lock me up and throw away the key. I have no respect for someone who wants the cops to do their dirty work.
“If I wanted to spend my afternoon listening to you rave about fucking Reaper, I would have just asked.”
I feign a laugh as I take a quick look around our surrounding area, making sure we’re alone under the bridge, then I unsheathe one of Reaper’s blades from my favorite corset. Raven isn’t stupid. She’s been doing this almost as long as I have. She wouldn’t be foolish enough to make a move on me in front of an audience, especially in broad daylight. She’s picked her scene well. Only problem is, this is going to be my scene, not hers. After all, I don’t make a habit of losing.
Reaper and Shadow though, they’re going to be a problem, one I haven’t even begun to figure out. Shadow is a no-go zone. I can’t even stomach the thought of touching her, and as for Reaper, how am I supposed to kill him now? Not that I actually think I could when it came down to it. He didn’t get as far as he’s gotten by allowing his emotions to rule his survival. He’s too good, and as it stands, I only have nineteen days to figure out how the hell I’m going to best him.
“Are you even listening to me?” Raven demands, gaping at me as though I’ve completely lost my mind. “Is your ego seriously that big?”
Ahh fuck. Now I’ve gone and gotten distracted again, and now this raging bitch is offended, probably assuming I think I don’t even need to pay attention to end her life. Just fucking great. There’s nothing worse than trying to kill someone who’s been freshly pissed off.
“I . . . uhhh. No. My ego is perfectly proportional, but that’s got nothing to do with you. I’ve had a bit of a weird night.”
“I don’t give a shit about your weird night,” Raven tells me. “Let’s just get this over and done with so I can be on my way.”
Oh wow. She actually thinks she’s going to beat me. That’s kinda sweet. I love when someone comes jam packed with that positive delusional optimism. It’s a wonderful trait, something I unfortunately haven’t had the luxury of having. I prefer to go into these things with my head screwed on properly, otherwise, you end up dead, and that’s not something I feel that I need in my life right now.
“Alright,” I tell her, adopting a fighting stance as it occurs to me that Reaper is probably here somewhere, watching from afar. And if Reaper is here, there’s also a good chance that Shadow is here too, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint them by not putting on a killer performance. “Just remember, you asked for this.”
Raven scoffs, and without a hint of hesitation, she comes for me, racing ahead with her blade clutched tightly. I simply wait, calling on every ounce of my patience as I watch her with a sharp eye, and as she takes her final step toward me and lunges with her blade, I simply step aside.
Her momentum sends her flying right past me, and I bring my blade down, slicing straight through her thigh as she goes. Raven cries out, and as I whip around to face her again, she stumbles, struggling to right herself after the blow.
“You fucking bitch!”
“I’m the bitch?” I scoff. “Were you not here just now? Did you not see the way you came at me? Have a little class. I thought we were going to do this like ladies.”
Raven clenches her jaw, anger flashing brightly in her eyes, and while I’ve made plenty of mistakes so far, she’s just made the biggest one of all. You never fight angry. It may make you dangerous and unpredictable, but it also makes you sloppy. She should know better.
She lets out a battle cry and rushes me again, only this time, I meet her with the same force she brings, throwing my arm up and blocking her lunge as my fist slams into her ribs. We trade punches, and it quickly turns into a lethal dance.
There’s no denying it, she’s good. But she’s not as good as me. She has skill, speed, and precision, but so do I, and unfortunately for her, nobody trains like I do.
Raven keeps coming at me, and when she rears back, preparing for another devastating blow, she leaves herself open. I take my shot, slamming my boot right into her chest. Her body flies back against the brickwork of the pillars holding up the massive bridge above us.
She sputters a cough, the blow winding her, but before she can pull herself together, I whip around, sending my foot up in a beautiful spinning kick that meets her temple.
Her head rocks on her shoulders, and as she struggles to find her feet, she drops the blade in her hand, letting it clatter to the ground.
I take a breath, having the perfect opportunity to make my kill, but I don’t go for it, not feeling comfortable ending someone’s life while they’re already down. Instead, I wait, knowing my moment is coming. “God, I fucking hate you,” she spits, leaning heavily against the bridge. “Can’t you ever just let me have one fucking win?”
Raven takes a second to regain her balance, and I take this opportunity to switch blades, reaching for Reaper’s other one. After all, they both deserve to have their moment in the spotlight. “The fact that I haven’t ended your life despite the six times you’ve left yourself open should be more than enough of a win for you,” I tell her, taking a step toward her and watching the way her eyes follow me. “But I’m bored now. I’ve allowed you plenty chances to try and pull your shit together and make this somewhat of a fair fight, but your arrogance is getting in the way. It’s time to end this, Raven. You’ve been fun competition over the last few years, but it’s over now.”
“It’s not.”
“It was over for you the second you accepted your invitation to War Games,” I tell her. “Now hurry up and make your move. I don’t want to kill you while you’re stumbling against a wall, and I doubt after everything you’ve achieved during your career that this is how you want to go out. Now, come at me so I can give you a respectable death.”
Raven holds my stare, her eyes narrowing to slits, and just as she reaches for a new blade from the holder on her thigh, she lets out a roaring battle cry, storming toward me with everything she’s got. Her long, thin blade is angled right for my eye, and in the split second it takes for her to lunge toward me, it becomes obvious that she has no game plan at all. Critical thinking has gone out the window, and all that’s left is undiluted rage and desperation.
Her blade hurtles toward my face, but at the very last second, I break to the left, clutch her arm, and slam her own blade straight through her stomach. Raven cries out in agony, her eyes widening in horror as she gapes at me, understanding quickly dawning. “I . . . I’m not going to win,” she breathes.
“No,” I tell her. “You’re not.”
Her brows furrow, and when tears fill her eyes, a new determination comes over her. She knows she’s going out, and just like I offered, she wants to go out fighting.
Then in a flash, she grabs a smaller dagger from her belt, and despite the long blade still protruding from her stomach, she lunges at me again. Only I don’t have the heart to stand here and watch her suffer, so when her small dagger narrowly skims past my face, I whip out with my own blade, sending it soaring across the front of her throat.
Raven goes down, dropping to her knees as blood gushes from her open wound, splattering across the sidewalk and quickly pooling beneath her. She clutches her throat as she looks up at me. “Tell . . . tell my—”
She crumbles, falling forward onto the long, thin blade, plunging it so deep into her that its sharp tip lurches out of her back, piercing right through her spinal cord, and all I can hope is that she doesn’t suffer long.
No other words come from her, and I can only guess what she was trying to say. Tell my family that I love them. Tell my husband, wife, boyfriend, or girlfriend that I’m sorry. Tell my brother that I always thought he was a self-righteous asshole. It’s always the same. In those final moments before death, people find clarity and realize what truly matters in the world.
Letting out a sigh, I make a mental note of the people I need to visit following the games, assuming I actually make it out of here alive. After double-checking that Raven is actually gone, I pull her body to the edge of the bridge pillars and hide her in the bushes. Someone will find her eventually.
With storms due to roll in this afternoon, I don’t bother washing Raven’s blood off the sidewalk. Instead, I look through her pockets until my fingers curl around her identification.
“Thank you,” I tell her, adding it to my little collection while confidence rumbles through my chest, knowing damn well that I’m in the lead. No one else in these games has even come close.
I believe Reaper has three—Graves, Crimson Rain, and Slasher. Texan Reaper has one—Sharkbait. And this one right here brings my grand total to eight—Stone, Grim, Blade, Boston Maneater, 343, Midnight Killer, Eagle, and now Raven.
There’s no denying it, I’m on fire. Though to be fair, I still consider 343 to belong to Reaper, seeing as though he was the one to make the kill, and at some point, he’s going to return for that. But the math is still on my side, and even if Reaper were to take my life and claim possession of all these kills, I think it’s only fair that I be awarded some kind of participation trophy. After all, I’ve put a lot of effort into these games. Nobody has made quite as many kills as I have.
Content that I’ve done everything that needs to be done here, I get on my merry way, sheathing the blades back into position as I put one foot in front of the other. Then after clearing the bridge, I pull out my phone and bring up Mila’s number.
“Where was I?” I ask as she accepts the call.
“You were just about to tell me how thick his cock was.”
Well, shit. Yes, I was.