Page 15 of Slay All The Way

Mark trudges through the snow ahead of me, completely oblivious to the shadow stalking him through the woods. The cocky fuck doesn’t even look back. In his childish mind, he thinks he’s the king of this pathetic little world, untouchable. But what is a king without his crown?

Lucky for him, Santa Johnny is here to fix that. I’ll make sure he gets the crown his uptight ass is so desperately craving—something sharp, something fucking bloody with a little festive cheer. A special gift from me, tailored just for him.

He stumbles over a fallen branch, cursing under his breath. “Stupid bitch,” he mutters, his voice muffled by the snow beneath his feet. “Always making a big deal out of nothing.”

Oh, I’ll make sure this isn’tnothing, Mark.

I trail him silently, my boots barely making a sound in the snow. The clown mask around my neck swings lightly with each step, its grinning face watching just as eagerly as I am. My hand tightens around the handle of the knife in my pocket. It’s almost time. Fuck this place stinks, the scent of pine is so strong my nostrils are burning, the tension thick enough to choke on.

The echoes of their argument reverberate in my skull, a cacophony of rage that fuels my desire for retribution. Each shrill word from Alaska’s lips, each dismissive sneer from Mark, stabs at my insides, igniting a fury that refuses to be quenched.

Alaska’s voice, so sweet, cracking with pain and frustration. I had a feeling that piece of shit was fucking around on her. I could practically smell the skank stench of his side bitch in thefucking air. She deserves better. She deservesme. And he—Mark—deserves nothing but the cold kiss of steel.

I can see him up ahead as I pull my mask up over my face. His breath coming out in angry puffs, his shoulders hunched against the cold. He’s muttering to himself, cursing her, cursing everything. Fucking guy is pathetic.

He can’t even see how much of a joke he is.

But I see. I see fucking everything.

“You shouldn’t have touched her.” My voice cuts through the wind, sharp and sudden.

Mark freezes mid-step. His body stiffening as he whips around. He looks around, confusion flickering across his face. “Who’s there?” he shouts, his voice shaking, but he tries to hide it, puffing his chest out like the cocky motherfucker he is.

I step out from the shadows, grinning beneath the edge of my mask. The snow crunches under my boots, the wind carrying the sound of the jingling bell from the tip of my Santa hat.

“Ho, ho, ho,” I chuckle darkly, the sound barely above a whisper. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

Mark’s eyes narrow as he stares at me, confusion quickly morphing into a cocky sneer. “What the hell is this? Who the fuck are you?” His voice drips with arrogance as he takes a step closer. “You lost or something? This some kind of prank?”

I tilt my head, my grin widening beneath the mask. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Mark lets out a mocking laugh, glancing around the empty woods before returning his gaze to me. “Oh, I get it. You’re one of those freaks from town, huh? What’s with the mask? You high on something? Tripping balls?” He scoffs, dismissively waving a hand. “Whatever, man. Fuck off before I kick your ass. You’re messing with the wrong guy.”

I stay silent, stepping closer. The tension hangs in the air, thick and electric. “Seriously,” he says, his voice dripping withcondescension, “you’re gonna regret this. You don’t even know who you’re messing with.” He rolls his shoulders back, trying to appear bigger, tougher. “Take the mask off, freak, and walk away before this gets ugly.”

I take another step, the snow crunching beneath my boots, and Mark’s eyes flash with something—hesitation, maybe. But then he quickly covers it with a sneer. “What, you think you’re scaring me? What are you even doing out here, huh? Playing dress-up in the middle of the woods like a goddamn psycho?” His eyes flick to the knife in my hand, but his bravado doesn’t falter. “You really think that’s gonna help you? Go home, man. Sober up, and quit whatever weird shit you’re on.”

The sound of my breathing fills the space between us, slow and deliberate. I tilt my head, letting him soak in the moment, letting him think he’s still in control. “You really don’t know who I am?”

Mark rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Should I? Nah, man, I don’t have time for your little games. Get lost, or you’re gonna be the one regretting it.” He smirks, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s already won. “Last chance, freak. Go home before I make you.”

His words send a rush of excitement through me, the rage inside me bubbling over. He still thinks he’s in control. He thinks he can talk his way out of this. But he has no idea what’s coming.Come on, Marky boy, I’d kill to see you ‘make me’, literally.

I step closer, my grin widening beneath the mask. “You don’t deserve to breathe the same air as me, let alone my little snowflake,” I hiss, voice thick with venom. Mark’s eyes widen, his cocky façade cracking as his body begins to tremble, the cold creeping into his bones as he realizes something’s horribly wrong. In one swift, brutal motion, I drive the knife deep into his side, twisting it as I feel his muscles tense under the pressure.A strangled gasp escapes him, and his legs buckle, making him collapse to his knees in the snow. He clutches his side in a futile attempt to stop the blood from pouring out, but it’s no use. A low groan escapes his lips, and blood trickles from the corner of his mouth, staining the pristine white beneath him.

I kneel beside him, watching with twisted fascination as his breath comes in ragged, frantic gasps. The life in his eyes flickers, but there’s still enough awareness left for him to understand what’s happening.

He’s not as broken as I thought—not yet.

His hands fly to the knife wound in his side, and he gasps, eyes darting wildly around as he scrambles for some kind of escape. Stupid fuck. Still thinks there’s a way he’s getting out of this.As if. His trembling fingers brush against the snow, trying to push himself up, but I grab a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back so hard he cries out in pain.

“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?” I hiss, forcing him to look up at me. His face contorts in agony, the gurgling sound of blood bubbling in his throat only adding to my excitement, and arousal. I’ve been fucking waiting for this. He thrashes, trying to pull away, his hands clawing at my arm, nails digging into the velvet fabric of my Santa suit.

His defiance makes this so much goddamn sweeter.

“Shh, it’s okay Marky boy. You thought you were tough, but there’s a lesson to be learned here,” I whisper, my voice low and dripping with madness. His eyes narrow, and he tries to fight back, swinging wildly with one hand. The punch lands weakly against my chest, but the effort brings a twisted grin to my face. “There is always someone bigger. Someone tougher. You thought you could lip me off and walk away like none of this mattered? Guess your mom was as worthless as mine if you never learned that words come with a price.”

Mark’s eyes flare with desperation. “You—psycho,” he chokes out, his voice raspy and slurred with pain. With a surge of energy, he manages to throw a punch that lands harder this time, catching me in the ribs.Fuck. I grunt, momentarily startled, but my grip on his hair only tightens. He flails, kicking his legs out, trying to buck me off as if he still stands a chance.

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