Page 80 of The Game

The man I pray she still loves.

She’s always looked for our direction, and her words cement that for me. I’ve been too soft, too lenient, when what she really needed was for me to take control again, channel her emotions, give her an outlet. My heart races at this notion, my palms clammy against the steering wheel.

“Things will always change in some way,babochka, but…you know we’d do anything for you.”

She snorts softly, somehow still able to surprise me. She’s changed immensely since she left, clearly because of what she endured, though I also think Teddy played a rather large role in that. The soft, timid Alice we once knew has risen from the ashes of her past, has transformed into something even more beautiful but with a lethal sort of edge. Biting back my sadistic smile, warmth envelopes me; she’s stronger than we all thought her capable, more ferocious, and a thrill runs through me at the thought of pushing her boundaries, forcing her past her resistance and into that realm of fear and trust.

It is quiet for the remainder of the drive home, but it is not weighted or awkward. It never was between us, Alice and I able to sit in silence and communicate all we ever needed to. Tristan, on the other hand, cannot go two seconds without running his fucking mouth. Alice would always kindly humor him and his tendencies, able to cater to both our needs seamlessly.

We’ve lost that ability to read her, but I feel confident in the fact that we are a few steps closer to something new, a necessary change in order to understand this new side to her.

So as I park alongside the forest that parallels our driveway, the sun gone, the bluish hues of sunset the last bit of light for the day kissing the tops of the evergreens, Alice shoves open the door and flees from my car, dashing headlong into the woods without a single glance back. On instinct, I rip the keys from the ignition, prepared to give chase, confused as hell as Tristan parks in front of me and jogs up, equally as flummoxed.

“What the fuck did you say to her now, idiot?” he growls. Rubbing at my jaw, my eyes shift through the mossy trunks of trees, no trace of our littlebabochkaleft behind in her sudden wake. My heart races, my palms tingle, and my cock surges with so much need it is painful.

“I think…she wants us to follow,” I say softly, turning my gaze to my twin. His eyes widen slightly, pupils dilating in carnal lust, a shudder running through him. After a moment, a mischievous smirk forms on his lips.

“Are we giving her a head start, then?”

The urge to hunt her down, to take her in filthy ways and remind her why she is ours is so strong I, too, shudder in anticipation. But there is still that little voice in my head telling me it’s too soon, that she needs more time to heal in all ways. So I shake my head with a frown, my eyes finding Tristan’s again. It’s no surprise he’s pissed, glaring at me as the shadows cast his face into a sinister light.

“That would risk everything,” I say in defense, even though I know that excuse is feeble at best.

He snorts, grinding his teeth, his anger apparent by the flash of his eyes and the cut of his jaw as he grinds his molars.

“She’s taking a huge risk for us. If we do not follow her now…we’ll lose her forever.”

His words sink in deeply, settling into the pit of my stomach, and I know he’s right. She admitted it in her own roundabout way on the drive home. She wants things to be as they were, and if our butterfly wants to run, she knows the magnitude of the fire she’s playing with. We’re hunters, and this is our favorite game.

Tristan’s lips quirk up in a devilish smirk, and he disappears for a moment before the thud of his trunk slams and echoes through the desolate forest. Zip ties in one hand, duct tape in the other, he pays me no mind as his boot snaps a twig, his first step into the forest soon followed by mine.

No soul on this planet has ever escaped our wrath.

Little Alice’s will be no exception.

CHAPTER 40

Alice

The car is suffocating, this day too much for my mind, my soul, and so I do the only thing I’ve ever known to do; I run. Branches materialize before me, and I dodge them for the most part as I flee, twigs snagging in my hair and wet leaves whipping my cheeks. My tennis shoes squelch over mud and rot and decay, and through the darkness, the woods come alive all around me. From the earthy scent of old timber, to the fluttering of birds as they’re flushed from their hiding spots.

I do not fear the darkness anymore; Teddy taught me to find beauty in it. I do not fear men, or creatures, or things whispered of that stalk the night. I do not fear my past, or my future, for I know my own strength, now—know I can handle and conquer whatever plants itself in the middle of my path.

The only thing I fear now is that my demons will not follow me into this darkness, that they only loved my light and not the woman I’ve become.

My heart races faster than my feet, and cool tears streak down my cheeks, and though I do not hear them giving chase, I keep running.

If they can’t follow me now, if they can’t see this black stain on my soul and love it anyways, then I’ll keep running for as long as it takes. They’ve chased me before, they chased me in their dirtiest dreams, they silently stalked me, ensnaring me with their silver eyes and unrelenting love. I just have to remember how to let them catch me.

Choking on a sob, I swipe at my cheeks and skid across the mud to a stop, whirling around and around, the frigid, mid-winter mist clinging to my hair and my clothes and clogging my throat. I hear nothing besides my own erratic, ragged breathing, my sniffles, and my pounding heartbeat.

My hope dwindles, a small flame barely flickering in a windstorm with no hope of protection.

Until I hear a deep, resonating voice.

Heart in my throat, I allow my fear response to take root, turning on my heel and sprinting away from Tristan’s low, unintelligible threats. His menacing chuckle finds me anyways. The woods hush in preparation for them to pounce, the animals and all their keen senses warning them predators are near, their prey about to be feasted upon.

A twig snaps to my right, and my head whips in that direction before I can stop the instinct. In the next second, I ram straight into what feels to be a warm rock, but as long, tattooed fingers wrap around my biceps, a scream hitches in my throat.

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