Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
I sit here, anger radiating off me as I stare at the almost flawlessly-cooked steaks, wondering if they’re going to grace us with their damn presence.
All I can visualize is restraining Marley and ripping the clothes off of her.
Tonight is the night we capture them.
My mind becomes frantic. All I’ve done since laying my eyes on her is plot and plan this twisted and deranged idea.
Trying to expel my energy, I yell for the others.
“One of you get started on setting the table. Georgia, make yourself fucking useful, and find the whiskey and beer; we need double the amount tonight. They need to be fully unconscious the entire night. Jared, go to the fridge and heat up some damn sides and dish them out on the plates,” I bark orders as my head pounds, a headache forming from getting worked up.
“Cora, get a hold of the roofies and put them in your pocket so we can be ready. I’ve observed them each time they come over, and Ryan always switches to beer, and Marley switches to seltzers after they’ve had too much whiskey.
Get some of those too,” I say, refraining myself from shouting at her.
“The roofies are supposed to knock them out for eight to twelve hours,” I seethe, agitation clear in my tone.
I run my hands through my hair, yanking on it in frustration.
Then, I hear the brushing of the trees and footsteps approaching.
At once, I abandon the mental distress I just put myself through.
I throw my hand upwards with a wide smile on my face, genuinely happy to see them, and shout, “Hey, you guys, we almost thought you weren’t going to make it!”
Marley and Ryan are holding hands, and her cheeks redden as she stares off. Ryan looks down at her and grips her hand tighter, and they make eye contact, grinning as Ryan says happily, “We almost didn’t.”
Fury ignites within me as the meaning of his words sinks in.
Glancing down, I notice the steaks are just about done. Taking the spatula, I flip them over and hear a nice sear as smoke rises.
Jared is already sitting at the table and smiles half-heartedly at them, grasping onto the brim of his baseball hat and gesturing a silent hello.
Georgia and Cora come barreling out of the RV, and to no surprise, they are tipsy.
Setting the steaks on a large platter, I serve everyone at the table.
“Nice and hot.” My mouth is watering.
“No other way to eat a steak,” Ryan swiftly agrees.
Georgia and Cora pull out their chairs and have a seat, gathering their utensils and digging in. Everyone’s mouth is stuffed with food, and they murmur happily.
Lowering my gaze so our guests don’t realize, one side of my mouth lifts into a smirk because I can’t help but be astonished by their naivety. Human meat tastes different from animal meat; there’s a clear distinction, and they haven’t questioned it at all.
“Anyone up for some shots of Fireball?” I ask suggestively.
Raising his hand immediately, Ryan basically shouts, “Me!”
Georgia pours him a generous amount in a red solo cup. Swallowing a large amount down, he looks over at Marley. Ryan taunts her. “Come on, babe, you can’t be the only one not enjoying themselves.”
A moment of doubt sweeps over her pretty face, and she shyly smiles. “Alright, Ryan,” she says, pursing her lips at him as she sticks out her hand to Georgia. Again, she free-handedly pours the whiskey even more than she gave Ryan.
“Looks like you might be carrying me home,” she flirtatiously tells him.