Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Not me either, you sadistic fuck.
Two more steps. He pivots, blade whipping up between the college girls.
“Which one of you wants to be the next viral clip?” A pause. The knife tilts toward Chloe, then her friend. “Tell you what … let’s make it a sorority double-feature.”
“Why are you doing this?” Kristy snaps.
Derek lowers the knife. “Finally. A little audience participation.”
He turns toward us. “You want the short slice or full carving? Either way, it’s a killer show.”
Kristy’s fingers twitch toward her pocket. “Just cut the bullshit and tell us why.”
Derek’s mask tilts, slow—a predator deciding whether to play with its food. “Why? You paid for this. I’m providing the service.”
“That’s your big villain speech?” Kade says flatly. “No wonder they replaced you with a fucking chatbot.”
I swallow. The hell is he doing?
Derek’s lingering behind us. Fuck. He’s going to shoot Kade in the head—right here. Right now.
Kade shifts and leans back, giving Derek his dead-eyed stare. The one that says—try me. See if you live.
Except I can feel that tremble, right through the press of our thighs. Kade may be one badass, but right now? He can barely stand.
I lean closer. Press my arm to his. Give him my own message—Idiot. Shut the fuck up.
“Bet the real reason’s sadder,” he says, casual as ever. “Jerking off to the security feeds. Crying into your vending machine dinner. Corporate never called back, did they?”
I almost laugh. But we all know how that ends when you poke a crazy narcissist with a loaded gun. I tense, waiting for Derek to pull the trigger, blow Kade into next week, and let his body bleed out right next to me.
“Oh, Thirteen. You wish I was that pathetic. But since you’re dying to know …”
Damn. Kade’s baiting Derek. Forcing the guy to monologue like some Bond villain. Buying time. For what?
“I built this place. Not some cheap haunted house bullshit. This. The voice mods. The surveillance matrix. You think that control room runs on magic? That was all me. Every line of code—”
“Code?” Kade mutters. “You’re just a fired IT guy with a God complex.”
Derek laughs. “And you’re just pissed I outplayed you. The system’s built to eat guys like you. Every keystroke, every ping … it all feeds back to me.”
“Yeah. And look how that turned out.”
My nails dig into my own palms.
“Wonder if those two bodies in the control room knew they’d be stuck scrubbing your mess of a backend.”
The snout turns toward Kade, a sound rattling deep in Amanda’s throat—half whine, half wheeze. Yeah, he’s not just riling Derek up—he’s baiting the bitch hog with a taser.
Derek scoffs. “Those clueless monkeys didn’t deserve my work. They thought it was all fun and games. Sure, year one, year two—maybe. Chase your prey, tie ’em up, get your rocks off with a safe word and a waiver. The rich got to feel dangerous. The prey got to feel wanted.”
Kade raises a lazy eyebrow. “And you got greedy?”
If he doesn’t stop poking, we might as well all get cozy while we watch him fast-track himself into a body bag.
“Me? Nah. The VIPs wanted more. They started asking for longer chases. Rougher handling. No limits zone. And guess what? Once that switch flipped, they never looked back.”
That laugh again. Pigface joins in.
Amanda is equally sick, only with worse accessorizing.
“The first death was an ‘accident.’” Derek air-quotes. “Breath play gone too far. I watched the clip that night. The way she gasped. The moment life left her eyes. That’s when I realized—everybody lies. The owners. The prey. The waivers.”
“But a real scream?” He draws a long inhale, hand drifting to his crotch. “Oh, yeah. That’s honest.”
Gross. Just when I think the asshole can’t get any more demented …
“Seven figures to bury it,” Derek continues, flicking his knife toward the security monitors. “Turns out, once you let monsters play, they don’t stop. Year Four? Three more ‘accidents.’ A broken neck. An ‘overdose.’ A girl who ‘got lost’ in the woods.”
Kristy’s vibrating beside me.
“They told you to wipe the footage,” Kade says. “You sold the uncut version on the dark web instead. They fired you for stealing. That’s your sob story.”
Derek straightens, body stiff. Kade nailed it.
Amanda steps forward, boots clicking on stone.
I slide my bound hands over Kristy. Grip the antler tine—whatever good that will do against a taser.
But then Derek chuckles. Not that egotistical asshole cackle. A broken sound that belongs behind a locked cell. “My sob story? Nah. This is my truth. They stole my tech. My code. Discarded me like garbage.”
Kristy cuts in. “It’s not our fault. We don’t owe you shit.”
I swallow a groan. Do these two have a death wish?
Derek leans in until his mask almost kisses Kristy’s nose. “Don’t act like you didn’t tick every box—especially the ones that make you wet.”
Kristy’s throat works. She holds Derek’s stare.
“Then again, you’re right, Cupcake,” he croons. “You owe me nothing. But you do owe the audience something.”
He straightens, waving his knife in a wide arc. “Every single one of you. This year, we unmask the real monster. What better way to introduce The Verge than with a killer climax?”
“With my fucking masterpiece …” He kicks the pew where Mia and Noah’s corpses are propped.
The party hat wobbles. Slides off Noah’s head and lands in Mia’s lap.
“With all your filthy little wishes granted. Gonna put this place on the map.”
Amanda makes a noise behind her mask—the kind you’d expect in bed, not surrounded by corpses.
“You’ll never get away,” Kade growls.
Derek clicks his tongue. “You think the owners will admit their pay-to-prey forest turned into a murder spree?”
Pigface clomps down the aisle and leans into Derek’s side like a prized pet. “Even if they try, they’ll have no evidence.”
“Exactly. The only proof is what I choose to show. And tonight, I’m giving the world the director’s cut. Cue the music, Dollface.” Derek plants a kiss on her snout.
I nearly gag.
Amanda strides to the altar and taps the tablet.
That remix from earlier when the hunters first appeared blares through the speakers—Halsey crashing into Elley Duhé.
Full fucking circle.
“Let’s cut to the crowd favorite.”
Derek steps back, gesturing at the college girls with his knife. Chloe and her friend have both gone quiet—almost comatose if not for their wide eyes and silent tears tracking down their faces.
“Actually …” He turns sharply. “Thirteen and …”
Steel glints in my vision.
“—Thirty-one. Perfect.”