Page 15 of Slaying for Sloan

The ice beneath us shatters, sharp and sudden, the sound ringing in the air like a death knell. Marcus’s eyes go wide as the surface gives way, the frozen water splitting open, and heplunges in with a panicked scream. I don’t move. I stab my knife into the ice, driving it deep, watching as it splits further, the cracks spreading fast, like a spider’s web about to collapse.

Marcus flails in the freezing water, trying to claw his way back to the surface. I stand firm, watching him struggle. Beneath the ice is brutal, violent—there’s no escape.

He clings to the edge of the ice, gasping for air, his face contorted with desperation. I step closer, my boots crunching on the brittle surface as I kneel, towering over him. I look down at him with nothing but hatred, the weight of my presence pushing down on him like an unrelenting force.

“You wanted to mess with her?” I sneer, my voice cold, taunting. “Thought you could just play with a girl like her, huh? Just another tourist to use and throw away?” I pull my knife from the ice, the blade gleaming in the dim light, and without hesitation, I drive it into his hand, pinning him to the ice with a sickening twist.

His scream is muffled, his fingers curling around the hilt of the knife, but I don’t care. His pain is nothing compared to what he deserves.

I mutter, shaking my head in mock pity. “Well, look where that got you. Ironic, isn’t it? Now, I’m the one who gets to have all the fun. I’m the one who gets to fucking mess with you, and guess what, Marcus, when I’m done, I get to throw you away, too.”

I let out a bitter laugh as I watch him struggle, clawing at the ice, his body trembling from the cold, but he knows it’s too late.

In the silence of the night, I can feel the weight of what I’m about to do. This isn’t some hero’s moment, some dramatic final showdown. No. This is just me taking care of business, finishing what should’ve been done the moment he laid his eyes on her.

I grab his head, dragging him by his hair, forcing him to look up at me. “Sorry, Marcus,” I murmur, almost disappointed.“But I’ve got better things to do than watch you choke on your own fear.”

With a swift motion, I shove his head under the water, feeling the life drain from him as he thrashes beneath my grip. His body bucks against mine, his last desperate attempts to escape, but it doesn’t matter.

I hold him there, watching as his struggles grow weaker, as his body goes limp. It’s over. I pull my knife from his hand, watching as the last breath he takes is swallowed by the cold depths. His form is carried away, his body lost to the unforgiving water.

As the last bubble escapes his mouth, I pull back, leaving him in the freezing darkness. Nature will take care of the rest for me. His body will be frozen within forty-five minutes, and sink to the bottom of the pond, lost and forgotten.

It’s a death better than he deserves.

“Now, that’s done,” I mutter, wiping the blood from my blade in the snow. “I’ve got a doe to catch.”

And with that, I walk off, leaving the frozen pond—and Marcus’s frozen body—behind me.

Chapter Nine

SLOAN

Aholiday display appears like a mirage through the falling snow – a wonderland of twinkling lights and larger-than-life decorations spread through a wooded area off the main street. Giant candy canes line the walkway, their red and white stripes glowing against the night. Inflatable snowmen bob around in the wind, and off in the distance I can hear Christmas music drifting through the air like a dream.

My entire body is buzzing with anticipation, every nerve ending alive and singing. The first encounter with Alex has left me charged, feeling electric, like I've been struck by lightning and miraculously survived. My fingers tremble as I push long strands of my hair back from my face, and I can still feel the ghost of his touch on my skin.

Who are you really, Alex?

The thought spins through my mind as I slow my pace, mesmerized by the scene before me. It's like stepping into a children's storybook, all sugar and light and magic. For a moment, I forget why I'm running, and I forget everything except the way the colored lights reflect off the pristine white snow. But my body remembers – God, does it remember.

"Sloan."

His voice cuts through the night like a blade, sending chills down my spine. A sound escapes my throat – something between a gasp and a desperate whimper – before I can stop it. I whirl around, heart pounding, but I can't see him through the chaotic maze of decorations and trees. The shadows between the lights seem darker somehow, deeper, and I know he's out there, watching.Waiting.

I should be running away as fast as I can. I should be playing hard to get and focusing on beating his ass to the church.

Instead, heat pools low in my stomach, and my pulse races with something that feels dangerously close to desire. Because this isn't the Alex Adams who makes polite conversation at his father’s church functions. This isn't the man who calculates every angle before making a move. This isn’t the man who texts me once a day if I’m lucky and only lasts two or three minutes once his dick is inside me.

This is something else. Something wild. Something hungry.

And God help me, I want more.

Come get me, Alex.

The thought makes me grin as I dart between towering nutcrackers, their painted faces seeming to watch my every move. My heart is hammering against my ribs so hard I almost wonder if he can hear it. The music grows louder – "Winter Wonderland" playing from hidden speakers, creating a surreal soundtrack for this game. Snow crunches behind me, and I don’t have to look to know he's following.

Each step sends a thrill through my body. There's something primal about being hunted like this, something that awakens parts of me I never knew existed. The cheery, hairdresser Sloan who worries about fitting into his world feels far away right now. In her place is someone feral, someone who wants to see just how far she can push him, just how much of his careful control she can strip away.

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