“She escaped. The first and last girl to get away… until you,” she says, muttering the last part with indigence.
A smile curls my lips, and pride fills my veins.
For Molly and for myself.
“Thank you.” Clapping my hands, causing the three of them to startle, I offer
them a huge smile. “It’s time.”
Francesca’s golden-brown eyes round with confusion and fear. Not so long
ago, we stood in opposite shoes. Drowning in helplessness and sorrow,
wondering how this could be happening to me. There she stood, staring down at
me with the same expression that I now wear.
She showed me no mercy. And I will return that favor tenfold.
Maybe she did care, but not enough to save me from herself.
“Time?” she echoes, her voice breaking.
My grin widens further, not bothering to hide just how vindictive I feel.
“For the Culling,” I supply, my voice dipped in honey and sugar. “And you,
my dear, are the prey.”
Imposters syndrome—something many authors deal with from time to time.
When we accomplish something we never thought possible, things we only ever
dreamed of, those are oftentimes the most difficult moments to grapple with.
Do I deserve this?
It’s similar to what Francesca, Xavier, and Rocco look like now—staring at the tree line before Parsons Manor, feeling like an imposter in their own life.
Instead of the inability to accept their accomplishments, they’re unable to accept their fate.
Am I really so vile—so evil—that I deserve to be hunted like a fucking animal?
I could answer that, but I’d rather show them.
Zade and Sibby stand on either side of me, a crossbow hanging loosely in their hands, the cold, gleaming metal identical to mine. The heavy weight feels familiar. I’ve been practicing for this very moment.
My heartbeat pulsates in my ears, drowning out Francesca’s incessant
sniveling. We’re standing behind them, the brisk air saturated with anticipation.
“You know,” I say loudly, causing her to flinch. “You would’ve beat the shit out of me if I had cried.”
She shakes her head, refusing to answer. Her head is tipped down, a mop of
stringy hair falling over her shoulders and revealing how badly she’s
deteriorating. Her spine is protruding from her skin, poking through the
threadbare t-shirt she wears.
Xavier and Rocco stand beside her with stone in their shoulders, holding
tightly on to the fa?ade that they’re strong and brave.
Such manly men, they are.
I’d like to see if that ideology holds firm when they’re running for their lives
or if they’ll die in a puddle of piss and regret.
“You three are luckier than I was. There’s no maze or traps in here for you.
Just the sharp tip of our arrows.”
“And if you can’t find us? Then we get away, and you’re fucked,” Xavier retorts pompously. He must feel so smart right now.
I smile. “You won’t get away.”
He tips up his chin, eager to prove me wrong.
“You placed several rules on me, but I’m only giving you one. You can’t escape out of the driveway. There are several armed guards stationed all the way down. If you want out, you go all the way through and find the road.”
He stiffens, and my smile grows. Xavier thought he could cut left, run twenty
feet, come out to my driveway, and escape that way. If they were going to make
it hard on me, the least I can do is return the favor.
“Which one do you think is tastiest?” Sibby asks, bouncing on her toes with
excitement and restlessness.
I curl my lip in disgust, wrinkling my nose. “Don’t be gross. We’re not cannibals.”
Sibby scoffs. “I would never taint my body with demon meat. We won’t be eating them, but the vultures will.”
“She’s got a way with words,” Zade says dryly, a tinge of amusement in his
tone.
That she does.
“Remember, Sibby, don’t shoot to kill. Find and bring her to one of us when
she’s down,” I remind.
She grumbles in response but doesn’t argue. I want to experience all of their
deaths, so just like the Culling, we’ll kill them together.
“Ready?” I call out. Francesca’s shoulders shake with sobs, but I pay her no
mind.
Xavier and Rocco don’t verbally answer, but their bodies tighten.
“Run,” Zade commands, laughing when Francesca takes off and then
immediately stumbles over her feet, nearly face-planting the dirt ground.
Sibby giggles, her bouncing increasing. She will be hunting Francesca, Zade
will be after Rocco, and Xavier… is mine.
Zade wanted to line them up and test if he could shoot an arrow through all
three of their heads at once, but I wanted them to swallow the same pill they forced down my throat. I wanted them to suffer as I did. To choke on the bitterness of having your life in someone else’s hands, just to have it thrown to the ground and fucking stomped on.
Only a monster can create another monster. And that’s exactly who I’ve
become.
Sibby takes off after Francesca, a nursery rhyme echoing across the forest.
Zade takes a step forward, then pauses to glance back at me, only the scar slashing through his white eye and the side of his mouth visible beneath the black hood.
“You look absolutely divine dressed in wolves’ clothing, but don’t think I won’t tear them from your body the second he’s dead. Enjoy your hunt, little mouse. You won’t be the only predator on the loose.”
Warmth spreads throughout my stomach, dropping low just as his eyes do,
giving me one last heated look before turning and taking off after Rocco.
I’ve told him some of the things Francesca’s lovely brother has done to me.
By the time the last breath leaves his body, he won’t have a drop of blood left inside him. And for the first time, I’m not ashamed that I find pleasure out of another’s death.
Biting my lip, I head into the forest. The temperature drops as I silently make
my way through, foliage crunching beneath my feet. A sharp thrill is zinging throughout my body, yet I keep my pace quick but steady.
Xavier is confident he’ll get away, but with how deep these woods are, we’re
confident none of them will find their way out before we catch up to them.
The wind blowing through leaves, birds chirping, and the critters rustling in