12
TATE
With a cock like a steel pipe digging into the seat of my tribike, it’s a little difficult to ride.
After being stolen from my Havoc by some very fucking rude Exots who seemed eager to dice me up for stew with the way they were swinging around their red-glowing axes and swords—somehow managing to chop off my entire damn hand in the process—I’ve finally got back on track and am closing in on Ezla as she melts my heart by hunting down a trio of fellow Evots.
So cute.
But also . . . How dare they hold her attention? She’s mine.
Fuckers.
Maybe I’ll butcher them? Chop them up into so many titchy little pieces, Havoc’s attention won’t even be able to find them.
“Baby, slow down! My dick’s too hard to put this kind of pressure on it!”
My girl’s head whips around, and said appendage twitches.
I can feel her burning glare on me through her sleek obsidian helmet, and it’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt in my entire life. She’s looking at me. I have her interest.
I just want to jump on her and fuck her brains out. Show everyone that she’s mine.
But then I’d have to kill the entire world, and that wouldn’t leave me with enough time to bathe in Ezla’s presence.
No. Only I’ll get to see her in that state.
When she’d first come into view before the countdown started, it felt like I was falling in love with her all over again: my knees weakened, and my blood heated; the crotch of my suit tightened, and my fists clenched to stop myself from grabbing her; the organ in my chest pounded out a mad anthem for her, and my head went fuzzy . . .
Five years ago.
Five fucking years ago to the day was the first time I saw her.
On TV for the first time, she took my breath away.
At just thirteen years old, she was already a deadly queen, the red on her helmet and suit only a handful of shades lighter than it is today.
My sixteen-year-old self was fascinated; my seventeen-year-old self completely obsessed.
Then at eighteen, I knew I was in love with her.
Was it morally wrong? I’m not sure. And me and morals have never been on good enough terms to have a long chat about it, but I wouldn’t have touched her. Even I’m not sick enough for that.
But she was mine then, and she’s mine now.
And I’m finally going to get to tell her that. Show her that.
Some people may not believe what I feel for her is real love, and after getting none from my parents after they realised I wasn’t normal, maybe I shouldn’t know what it feels like.
But I do, because of her. And no one can tell me otherwise.
I see her. And she’ll see me.
A beautiful, murderous growl comes from within my girl’s helmet. “Would you like me to chop it off for you, then, Player 4?” she hisses.
“My name is Tate, my darling little Havoc—we’ve been through this.”
When I was chasing her earlier, I was trying my best to charm her.
I think it’s working.
“I do not give a shit what your name is,” she spits. “You will look the same as all the others when I dismember you and hang every one of your limbs up on my walls as trophies.”
It’s just a slow process.
But then I realise her true meaning:
“I knew you’d want me in your bedroom soon enough, baby.”
An Avri throwing star rushes at my neck.
Hardly swerving fast enough to avoid losing my head, I right myself to find my girl’s focus elsewhere again.
On those stupid. Fucking. Brothers and their little sidekick.
A dangerous sound rumbles through me.
I’ll gut them like the little piggies they are for stealing any part of her from me. She’s mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine—
Ezla’s hands tighten on her handlebars, her head dipping a fraction of an inch.
It’s such a small thing that no other would notice. But I do. I notice.
Something’s wrong with her.
I actually caught a sign earlier, too, so I’ve been looking out for any more to make sure my mind’s not playing tricks on me.
She’s been phenomenal the entire Game, like usual .
. . but not as phenomenal. It’s as if her head’s a little off and her body a little slower.
And even though she’s still more skilled, more deadly, than any other Player right now, I’ll admit that, for the first time ever, I’ve been slightly worried what would happen if she was surrounded by a group of Evots with high Scores.
I think she might have been drugged before the Game.
I have no idea who’s done it, no idea who’d even be able to get close enough.
But when I find out, I will break each and every bone in their body, one by one .
. . I will peel their skin off, torturously slowly, to use for the string of the necklace I’ll make of them to put around my Havoc’s pretty little neck . . . I will—
Vroom!
Stiffening in an instant, my gaze snaps to the right.
Where an Evot with an emerald ‘17’ plastered across his chest has set his sights on my baby, and is speeding towards her with his intentions painted clearly across his face.
He’s going to try and bond Ezla.
Like a tidal wave, rage consumes me from head to toe.
Not.
Fucking.
Likely.
I charge at him head-on.