Page 73 of Rat Race

I didn't respond. Instead, I shot them a coy wink, paired with a twitch of my fingers in a little wave, and darted down the hallway.

Cam

Have you learned your lesson?

Aubrey's golden hair whipped around the corner, and I saw red.

It was beyond temptation.

It was fuckin’ cheek.

My little bloodied angel damn near flew down the hall as I chased after her. Her panicked breathing and the sound of her boots against the concrete far too loud if she was actually tryin’ to escape me.

We should’ve been going after Elijah and Hiram, but it would have to wait.

There wasn’t no fuckin’ way I was lettin’ her get away with it. Not this time. Not with the weight of everything that'd happened pressin’ down on me like bricks.

How quickly I'd lost control of this game even after a lifetime of training was stifling as late August humidity. Hard to breathe around, sticky.

Totally un-fuckin’-missable.

Lord have mercy, I was tired of bein’ tested. If I was judge n’ jury, it was time for a bit of reward.

And in Aubrey’s case, a whole hell of a lot of punishment.

I hadn’t been part of my plan to end up on a team I’d spent the game carrying. Even less so gettin’ emotionally involved with another fuckin’ Runner in the confines of the maze.

Losing all my viewership because some loudmouth reckoned that her life was worth more to me than winnin’ this game. Not that’d even made a difference now, not since Aubrey’d snuffed her clean out.

Fuckin’ menace of a woman.

Once I catch her, she’ll be sorry.

This place, the Architects that ran it—hell, even my ownfamily—wanted me to be a monster. And I was sick of denying them the satisfaction.

Besides, as much as I wanted to ignore it, there was a part of me that’d loved watchin’ Ella beg. The power of it. Her dirty, tear-streaked face as she stared up at me, hopin’—nah,prayin’—that I’d roll over and accept her bullshit excuses for turnin’ on me.

Better than a cold beer after mowin’ the lawn.

Even if, in the back of my mind, doubt was still naggin’ at me that she might’ve been forced into the maze. Was it really possible? Were there players who’d found their way inside the game without their consent?

Had to be, didn’t it? Why else punish me by cutting off my feed? Even now my watch was lifeless on my wrist, absent of the constant stream of notifications I’d quickly gotten used to thanks to my viewers’ comments.

Watchers made up a decent portion of this game, offering up helpful hints of what direction to go in and how to get to the end quicker. Without them? Things would be a whole lot more difficult.

Still, the break from my family was… relievin’.

Regardless of whether she’d been tellin’ stories, the truth, or something in between, I did wantto make Ella suffer for breakin’ my trust.

And damn, did I ever make a show of it. The broken leg was just the beginning. There wassomuch I wanted to do.

But then my little angel came around and plucked it right from my hands.

It was… too much.

Embarrassin’. Naw, not just embarrassin’, humiliatin’.

I needed to take back control.

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