Page 88 of Ready Or Not

Riley’s tracker has her moving away from the house and back to ours. I switch directions, flooring it to intercept her, but she must be fucking flying because by the time I get back, there’s a car in the driveway, and Riley is leaning on the porch, covered in blood.

She’s acting completely unharmed.

“It’s locked.” She looks at her nails, which are bloody.

I don’t say anything to her. I can’t, or I’ll kill her right here. I simply unlock the door, and she tosses me a cheeky smile and goes inside herself. She marches straight down to where I want her to go: the basement.

“Rachel!” Riley snaps.

Rachel scrambles to her feet. She’s still chained up, right where I left her. So how in thefuckdid Riley get away?

“Did you think you could just…decide you’re in charge?” Riley snatches Rachel up by her neck.

“I didn’t—are you hurt?” Rachel looks between Riley, me, and the crawl space. So that’s how she got out.

My phone dings.

“Riley,” I bark. “Want to explain whatthe fuckyou were doing?”

Riley looks manic, shoving her face in Rachel’s. “When I say come, you come. When I say jump, you jump? Got it?”

Rachel looks afraid, and my phone dings again.

“Riley.” I grab her shoulder and rip her back.

Riley still tries to get at Rachel. “You’re mine, Rachel. You got that? You’re fuckingmine.”

My phone dings again. “What?” I rip it out of my pocket. It’s my cop contact. He’s freaking out about something, I see Riley’s name, and he sent some video clip.

I tap on it.

The video looks like it’s been filmed from inside a bathroom. Then it pans up, and my heart stops.

There’s Riley, standing in someone’s office with a gun in her hand. She has a mask on, but I know it’s her. Her two long braids run down her front, and her leg tattoos are visible under her shorts.

I can feel my heartbeat in my ears, the thump thump thump. In the video, Riley stomps on someone. At least, what used to be someone. All I see is a bloody mess of what used to be a head. Riley is laughing maniacally, crushing the pulp over and over.

For a second, I flash back to my mom.

Fuck, Manson. Focus.

I read the messages. The video has been posted all over social media.

I grip my phone so hard it hurts, and everything comes crashing down around me. This is everything I’ve tried to protect Riley from, everything I worked so hard to prevent.

“Are you okay?” Rachel’s voice cuts through the fog.

I blink up at her. She’s staring at me with concern on her face. Even Riley has turned.

“Is everything…okay?” My voice is low and dangerous. “Is itokay?”

I take a step forward, and Riley steps in front of Rachel, holding her hand out to block me. “Fuck off, Manson.”

“Look.” I shove the phone at them and let the video play. They watch in silence, but I can still hear the video. The manic laughter and the squishing sounds of the person’s brain as Riley stomped any future she had into the ground. My hand is shaking the whole time, but I don’t care.

The video stops, and Riley purses her lips. “I ruined my shoes.”

With that one little comment, I lose my mind. I snatch Riley by the shoulders and shove her back until she slams into the basement wall just hard enough that she lets out a breath. She smiles up at me. “What’s wrong?”

---