Page 100 of Ready Or Not

No. Fuck. Bad. I have to forget her. Forget either of them existed and go back to being me.

My throat is tight again. I’m both extremely wired and bone-achingly exhausted. I check my bedside table, finding just two sleeping pills left in my bottle. I’m about to take them when my eyes lock on the mouse skull sitting on the table.

I stop. My eyes well up with tears, and this time, some of them spill over.

No! Fuck, no.

I pop the last two pills in my mouth and fall into bed, trying my best to keep the rest of the sobs locked in. I got what I wanted. Right? I’m alive, and I’m home. Everything I could have ever wanted. Right?

It’s quiet in here. So quiet. There’s no passion, no battle of wills, no nothing. That used to be a comforting thing. But now, all I feel is empty and unsettled.

This isn’t right. I can’t possibly want two serial killers. It’s just the Stockholm. I’ll get over it in what…a day? A week? A few weeks?

It feels like an eternity. I toss on my bed, suddenly bitter. How dare they do this to me?

How fucking dare they? I slip into a fitful sleep.

56

Wicked Game - Witchz

When I wake up, something isn’t right. I’m groggy, and I feel like…I’m sitting up.

I shake my head, looking around. It’s dark, and I’m in the back of a car.

“Oh, our little intrigue is awake.”

The grumbly voice makes realization come crashing in.

It’s Manson.

I scramble upright as I meet his gaze in the rearview mirror. Only, this time, he has the same mask and helmet on as when I first met him. He looks cold and harsh, his eyes barely glinting behind the mask.

There’s movement to my right, and I look over and see Riley there. She’s back in her cop uniform, with the half mask over her mouth.

I squeeze my eyes shut. They came to kill me. To kill me because I ran.

And that thought makes me mad.

“You thought you could get away, Rachel?” Riley’s voice is soft. It’s the deceptively soft sound, where she lulls you into complacency, then pounces. It makes goosebumps prickle across my skin, and the blood rush to my pussy.

Fucking hell! I shouldn’t be getting turned on right before I die.

We pull into Riley’s place, and the sight hits me with unexpected nostalgia and then anger. I’m nothing more than one of their marks. And after I caught feelings? How embarrassing.

Manson pulls up to the back door and then jumps out of the car. He pops my door open. “You have thirty seconds to run.” His voice is slightly muffled, and it comes out lower than normal.

I give him my meanest death glare. He gives it right back, looking down through the mask like he might just pound me into the car right here. I realize again just how big of a person he is.

So I run. I dart into the house and shut and lock the door. Manson doesn’t come here much, and Riley spends all her time in the barn, so I have at least a partial chance. As I scramble through the hall, I dart to the kitchen to look for weapons.

I’m shivering in anger.

How dare they do this to me? Treat me like this?

As I dig through drawers, I find a knife. Gripping it, my vision clouds over with tears, and my hand shakes.

Get it together, Rachel.

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