Page 9 of Cruel Games

THREE

IVY

Every musclein my body ached. I’d been sitting in this same cramped position since before midnight, and I was hungry, tired, and sick of staking out the fucking Guild. The bushes across the street weren’t a good viewpoint, so I’d climbed the fucking trees on the opposite hill and set up camp.

It was the perfect spot. I could see the side of the building Bonnie had identified as the dorm windows and started counting.

One, two, three up. One, two, three, four, five, six across.

There.

A shadow moved across the window I had identified as theirs, then passed by again in the opposite direction. Back, forth, back, forth. Someone was pacing.

But why?

Killers without a conscience didn’t have a reason to worry and pace. They had no morals to keep them up at night. They didn’t worry about little things like who they hurt in the process while they were out here mindlessly killing and slaughtering people for money.

What kind of monsters kept a killer up at night?

Hopefully, it was the memory of my father’s face when they ran it across their bike tires.

The plan was simple–I needed to get into their dorms, leave my note, and get out, all without being seen. I’d come back later and do the real damage, but these fuckers had enjoyed freedom for too long for me to give them the easy way out.

I wanted them to suffer. Mentally, physically, emotionally. And I had plans that would ensure they got their just desserts.

Torture.

A continuous stream of mind games to keep them wondering how I knew where they’d be and when, who their targets were, the intricacies of their methods and calling cards. I laid out a tiered and extensive method to get under their skin and drive them batshit crazy–until I was ready to endthem for good.

I would rip their minds to shreds and have them questioning themselves. And when they were inches away from tearing each other's throats out, I’d swoop in, string them up, and beat them until I was ready to put a bullet in each of their heads and bury them in the depths of the Dread River.

Paybacks were a bitch. But this time, they were being delivered by a bitch, too.

And I’d be the last bitch they’d see before their lives were snuffed out. For good.

Two burly guards, both making up for what they lacked in brains with the thick walls of muscles they sported, wandered back and forth along the entrance to the driveway, not bothering to hide the guns in their hands and on their backs as they lived out their tough guy Rambo fantasies.

Fucking men. Especially the roided-out, tiny-dicked ones whose personalities meant they couldn’t hold down a girlfriend for longer than a few weeks at best. I’d bet every single date they had recently ended in the girl ghosting them on whatever stupid dating app these knuckle-dragging Neanderthals managed to slap their pictures up on.

I rubbed my eyes, forcing the edges of my vision blurry as I shook the sleep from my brain. “Wake up, you stupid bitch,” I muttered just low enough for myself to hear, and only myself. “There’s work to do.”

There was always work to do. I didn’t have time to fantasize about a future or laugh about idiots, or even breathe for a second. Every moment of my life was devoted now to accomplishing the only meaning my life held anymore, and there was room for nothing else in the schedule.

Not happiness, not a relationship, not sleep or fun.

Only pain. Revenge. Hatred.

The only things I could feel were negative. And it would never end until I finished these assholes off once and for all, giving them everything they deserved and more.

I was here for a dry run of the plan, and I had to turn my attention back to the task at hand with a firm hand and a sigh of irritation. As the guards were relieved by the next shift, I slinked down from the perch I’d been clinging to and settled into the mindset of a killer.

Showtime.

My feet moved silently across the grass, carrying me closer to the asylum walls as I felt my breathing quicken and my pulse hammer through my veins. Adrenaline filled my lungs with every step, and when my back hit the brick-and-mortar exterior, just a few feet below the targets of my obsession, I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

No guards in sight and not a single person around to spot me. The whole back wall was a blind spot for the security cameras, and the team of goons they relied on to patrol the grounds were likely in the throes of a circle jerk.

Time to start the clock.

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