All the Ways I’d Live for You (Psychotic Devotion Trilogy #3)
Prologue
The first siren rips through the forest, bouncing between the trees and closing the distance they bought with blood and panic. Wet snow sticks fast, heavy enough to slow them down, cold enough to burn.
Liam snaps his head toward the sound, eyes blown wide, breath tearing out of him in uneven bursts that fog the air.
Sweat and melted snow plaster his hair to his forehead.
His lungs burn. His legs shake inside thin sweats soaked through to the skin.
They’ve been running far too long for hope to still feel real, and the siren confirms it.
Whatever grace period they were given was finished.
“Move!” Chris shouts, his voice cracking under the strain. “Go, go, GO!”
Beth runs at his side, feet slapping against slick mud and half-frozen leaves, the hem of her dress heavy with water and clinging to her thighs.
The cold bites at her exposed skin, numbing her fingers even as her heart hammers violently against her ribs.
Behind them, Cindy and Liam struggle to keep pace, Cindy’s dress tangling around her legs, Liam’s feet skidding on roots and stone, branches tearing at fabric and skin as they push deeper into the dark Oregon woods.
They can barely see more than a few feet in front of them through the darkness. The snow makes the ground unpredictable, sometimes soft, sometimes slick, sometimes hiding something sharp.
The second siren wails. The hunt has begun.
“Oh my god, they’re coming,” Cindy whimpers behind her, hair whipping across her soaked face.
Liam doesn’t see the trap until it snaps shut.
Metal slams together with a violent crack that echoes through the trees.
Liam screams at the same moment, a raw, tearing sound forced out of him without control.
His body jerks sideways as the force rips his foot out from under him.
His leg folds beneath him at an impossible angle, twisted past the point joints are meant to allow, and he hits the ground hard enough to knock the air from his lungs.
Snow bursts up around him as his body strikes the frozen earth.
Beth stumbles to a stop, her balance slipping as her bare feet hit fresh blood that wasn’t there moments ago.
The bear trap snaps shut around Liam’s ankle and locks in place.
Steel teeth tear through skin and muscle before biting down hard against bone.
Blood spills out in heavy, steaming surges, seeping through the jagged teeth and soaking into the snow below.
Splintered bone presses against the metal, some pieces snapped clean, others crushed inward, all visible through torn flesh that no longer resembles a leg.
“OH GOD,” Liam screams. His hands fly to his ankle, fingers smearing blood everywhere they touch. “GET IT OFF. GET IT OFF. AAHHHH. PLEASE. PLEASE!”
Chris drops beside him, slipping on blood-slick snow, hands shaking as he grabs Liam’s shoulders and tries to lift him.
“Don’t move,” he shouts, his voice cracking, even though Liam can’t stop shaking or screaming.
Cindy lunges for the trap with bare hands, fingers immediately burning from the cold metal and the heat of fresh blood.
She strains with everything she has. The jaws stay locked, teeth driving deeper as Liam’s weight shifts, pressure crushing bone and tearing what little structure the leg still has.
Liam’s scream collapses into sobbing gasps. Foam gathers at the corners of his mouth. His eyes roll, unfocused, white showing. Blood keeps pumping, pulsing in time with his heartbeat, each thud spraying more red into the snow.
“Please,” he chokes, reaching for Cindy. His fingers tremble violently. “Please don’t let me die. Please.”
Another convulsion tears through him. The trap grates again, and something inside his ankle gives way. Liam screams once more, then his voice shatters into a hoarse, animal whine as shock begins to crawl in.
Slow footsteps crunch through the snow.
Beth freezes so hard it feels like her bones lock in place. The others follow her stare. A figure slides out from between the trees, their outline warped by drifting snow, almost indistinguishable from the trunks behind them.
The figure carries a harvesting blade that is long and curved, designed to cut down whatever stands in its path. Moonlight slides along the edge and catches on patches that are already wet and dark. The figure stops just far enough away to watch, head tilted slightly.
“No. No. No,” Liam sobs as panic tears through him.
He tries to drag himself backward, palms scraping at the snow while his heels dig uselessly into the ground.
The bear trap yanks him short with brutal force, jerking his body back toward it.
Steel teeth shriek as he moves, the sound high and grating, and his ankle grinds again inside the locked jaws.
Fresh blood spills out immediately, pooling beneath him and soaking through his sweats until the fabric clings to torn flesh underneath.
His breaths come in choking bursts as pain rips through him faster than he can process.
The figure kneels beside him with ease. They slide the curved blade beneath Liam’s chin and lift slowly, applying just enough pressure to force his face upward. His jaw shakes violently as his head tilts back, his throat exposed without resistance.
“Please don’t,” he whispers, his voice barely holding together. “Please.”
The blade moves.
It cuts his throat clean and wide in a single smooth sweep.
Skin splits, muscle parts. Blood explodes outward in a violent arc, slapping across Cindy’s face and neck.
Liam’s body jerks hard enough to rattle the trap.
His hands fly to his neck, fingers plunging into the open wound, coming away coated and dripping.
He gurgles. Thick bubbles push through the ruin of his throat. His legs kick, reflexive, wild, heel hammering uselessly against the steel jaws that still hold him. His eyes roll back, then flutter violently. His body convulses again, then again, then stills.
Beth screams so hard it tears through her, her throat burning as her voice starts to give out.
The killer stands. They snap the blade once, sending a fan of blood into the snow, then turn and vanish into the storm as if the forest swallows them whole. The distant siren fades into nothing.
Beth stumbles, vision smeared red, skin slick with blood. Behind her, Cindy sobs as she runs, breath hitching hard enough to steal air from her lungs. Her hair is plastered to her face and neck, legs trembling as she tries to keep moving.
“There it is,” Cindy gasps, panic forcing the words out too fast. “I can see the gate.”
There is a thick, ugly crack that splits the air and cuts the sentence short.
Beth turns just in time to see the bolt hit.
It punches through the side of Cindy’s neck and tears out the other side in a violent burst of flesh and arterial spray.
Blood erupts in a hard, pulsing stream, splattering the snow and striking Beth’s exposed arms and hands.
Cindy’s eyes go wide as her body staggers.
Her mouth opens and closes without sound, jaw working uselessly as her throat fails her.
Blood bubbles between her lips, spilling down her chin and soaking the front of her dress.
She reaches for Beth with shaking fingers, hands slipping in her own blood as her knees begin to give way.
Cindy collapses mid-step, knees buckling, body slamming into the snow.
She tries to breathe. The sound that comes out is wet, choking, wrong.
Beth drops beside her, hands shaking, pressing uselessly at the wound, whispering over and over, “Cindy, no. Stay with me. Please.”
Cindy’s eyes flutter. Her chest hitches once more. Blood spills from her mouth and runs into her hair as her body finally goes slack.
On the ridge above them, a silhouette lowers a crossbow with mechanical calm.
Then it is gone.
Beth doesn’t remember standing up. Her body just goes, pushed forward by panic she can’t stop. Her legs feel numb, the cold doesn’t register, and the burn in her lungs barely reaches her. All she hears is Chris yelling her name behind her and the heavy crunch of boots tearing through the snow.
Chris catches her arm and spins her around hard enough to make her stagger. His hands are shaking violently. His face is streaked with blood, smeared across his cheek and jaw.
“Hey, look at me,” he says, his breath hitching with every word. “We can make it. Just keep going.”
He turns to run. Branches snap hard to their right, followed by the heavy rush of movement cutting through the snow. Beth barely has time to register the shape breaking from the trees before the killer hits him.
The axe is driven straight into Chris’s stomach with full force.
The blade buries deep, tearing through fabric, muscle, and organs in a single violent motion.
The impact knocks the air out of him instantly.
His body jerks forward, then locks in place, back arching as his mouth opens in a silent scream.
Blood spills immediately, pouring down over his hands as he instinctively clutches at the handle lodged in his abdomen.
“CHRIS,” Beth screams as she lunges toward him. “Chris!”
His eyes are wide with shock, pupils blown out as his body begins to tremble. His lips quiver as he tries to breathe. He coughs hard, and blood bursts from his mouth, splattering Beth’s bare arms and the snow between them. Red flecks cling to his teeth and run down his chin.
“Beth,” he wheezes, his voice thin and broken. “Baby. Run.”
The word barely makes it out. His knees buckle as his strength gives way. The killer stays close. Gloved hands wrap around the axe handle still buried in Chris’s stomach. Chris feels it before he sees it. His entire body seizes as a strangled sound tears out of his throat.
“No,” he gasps. “Stop.”