Page 9 of War Games

He takes leisurely stride after leisurely stride as though he doesn’t even notice the bullshit around him, but that’s not possible. He simply doesn’t care. It’s as though he knows they can’t touch him, not even if the three of them worked together to bring him down. Then, as if he has all the time in the world, he pauses and turns toward Graves and Crimson Rain, watching the way Slasher races toward them.

Slasher’s momentum falters under Reaper’s scrutiny, and his weak-ass knees literally crumble beneath him, taking him heavily to the ground. This fumble gives Graves the opening he needs. Abandoning his advantage on Crimson Rain, he lunges for Slasher first, deciding he’s the bigger threat, but he refuses to take his eyes off Reaper.

Graves takes him out quickly and efficiently with a boot directly to the back of the spine, snapping his neck with ease. He’s still cautiously watching Reaper, but I don’t think Reaper is even a little bit interested in getting involved. He just stopped to casually watch the show, and it also doesn’t go unnoticed that the moment Reaper stepped out into the spotlight, every other bystander mysteriously vanished.

The distraction gives Crimson Rain the precious seconds she needs to get back to her feet, and instead of fleeing as any other sane person would, she lunges for Graves again, her pointed cat-ear brass knuckles plunging deep into the side of his neck.

He cries out in agony, and while it’s a devastating blow, it’s not a fatal one. If he can escape this, he’ll give himself a secondchance in these games. Assuming Crimson Rain doesn’t finish him off first.

Graves whips around toward her and lunges at her, barely noticing the way half of his skin is torn into ribbons. He grabs her head and slams it against the wall of the warehouse, and I have to lean further over the edge of the roof to see the performance properly, but as I do, I feel that same chill in my bones and I tear my gaze away from the dueling couple to the ghost in the middle of the street. His haunting stare is locked on me again.

He’s the only one who’s been even remotely capable of spotting me on the roof. Though to be fair, he saw me make a break for the stairs, and like earlier, his stare is just as chilling. I swallow hard, my palms instantly starting to sweat, and I don’t dare look away when I hear the sound of a body hitting the ground. Not even when Graves escapes with both Crimson Rain’s and Slasher’s identifications.

It’s just me and Reaper, and the five other bodies left scattered on the concrete. I can only assume The Boston Maneater took off earlier with the coveted identifications of Stone, Grim, and Blade, and he probably took himself a finger to gnaw on. Officially, the one and only cannibal competing is currently in the lead with Graves coming in a close second, but with Reaper on the loose, I doubt either of them will hold those positions for long.

The seconds seem to last a lifetime, and all I can hear is my heartbeat pulsing in my ears. This could be it. The moment I die. Even with all this distance between us, all he’d have to do is blink and I’d be as good as dead.

I hold my breath, waiting for the sweet torture of death to rain down over me, and yet all the fucker does is wink.

Huh?

A wink?

What the hell does that mean?

My heart races even faster, and when he shifts his body weight, my back stiffens, watching as the slightest smirk pulls at the corner of his full lips.

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. I’m a dead woman. I didn’t even get to make him come yet.

Is he going to shoot me? Throw a knife through the night sky and plunge it into my chest? Take me out with nothing more than fear alone? Holy fucking hell. Why do I suddenly have the overwhelming need to shit?

This isn’t okay!

My hands shake, and I brace them against the ledge of the roof, preparing to push myself to my feet if I have to make a break for it. I don’t dare fool myself into believing that he didn’t notice the shift in my weight. He knew my plan even before I did.

My heart races impossibly fast, and just when I think I’m about to go into cardiac arrest, Reaper turns on his heel and walks away, gingerly putting one foot in front of the other, so casually strolling right down the center of the deserted street.

4

SIREN

What in the ever-loving fuck just happened up on that rooftop?

All I could do was stare after him as he disappeared into the night, and even then, I couldn’t bring myself to get up and leave. I’ve been a callous killer for the better part of a decade, and despite all the ridiculous situations I’ve found myself in, I’ve never been as terrified as I was on top of that warehouse. If I wasn’t worried about being hunted during my sleep, I’d take a Xanax or five to chill me the fuck out.

It took me twenty minutes after Reaper left before I was able to find the nerve to march my ass off the roof and slip back through the side streets to my car. He left me shaken, and that’s not a feeling I’m used to.

Driving through the empty streets of Blue Springs, I bring up Mila’s number and call her over the car’s Bluetooth system, listening as the first ring only gets halfway through before she quickly answers. “What the hell took you so long?” my best friend demands, her voice filling my car. “I’ve been waitingforever to hear what the fuck went down in that warehouse. I tried to hack my way into their footage, but they put up too many firewalls. I couldn’t get through to save my life.”

“Shit. You don’t know then?”

“Know what?” she panics.

I let out a heavy breath, having no idea where to even start with the bullshit otherwise known as my night. “I maybe shouldn’t have jumped the gun. You were right to want to do all your research first.”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

“It’s notwhat, butwho.”

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