Page 26 of Slay Ride

Shadows give way to light, and the silent lift appears further ahead. The chairs hang from the cable, and not even the wind causes them to wiggle. It looks like a picture.

The chainsaw noise cuts off abruptly, and I creep forward until I can see the bodies and the blood on the snow. Just as I feared, my Cattle no longer kneels where I left him. A dent in the snow provides the only proof that he was there to begin with.

A flash of red catches my eye, and I turn my head. I blink, unable to understand what I’m seeing. My quarry shuffles toward me, then falls face first onto the cold white ground. His hands are still tied behind his back, so how did he turn on the chainsaw?

He raises his face from the icy earth and opens his mouth to scream, but the skin on his lips only stretches to impossible lengths without releasing any sound. As I hoped, his lips are glued shut. But that also means he can’t explain anything to me.

I tighten my grip on the screwdriver and step from the cover of bushes and tree trunks. He doesn’t have a weapon, so I have nothing to fear now.

“Looks like you’rescrewed, buddy,” I say as I step toward him. I twist the screwdriver in my hand, glad no one was around to hear that one. It was worse than any of the others I’ve tried.

The man wiggles until he’s on his back, and this is somehow worse. I can see his eyes, and they’re currently pleading for me to help him.

I take a step back and close my eyes. How does Kindra do this? How can she kill someone who so badly wants to live?

Then I see red, and I don’t mean figuratively. In my mind, I picture his jumpsuit. It tells me how Kindra does this. She does this because this man has hurt people, and now it’s his turn to hurt.

With my eyes still closed, I take a deep breath, step forward, and raise the screwdriver. That’s when the chainsaw whirs to life once more, and it’s right behind me.

Chapter Eleven

Bennett

This couldn’t have gone more perfectly if I’d planned it. Not only am I going to steal her kill, but I get to terrify her in the process. My only regret is that I won’t see the fear on her face when she wheels around and sees this masked figure with a chainsaw in his hands, then raises that pitiful screwdriver with a scream.

I step toward her, and she takes off into the woods. She doesn’t even look back to see if I’m chasing her, which means she’s in a blind panic.

Shit. Even if I’d had a plan, this wouldn’t have been part of it.

“Sorry we don’t have time to play,” I tell the man on the ground. “I need to go save the wildlife from Sleeping Booty over there. I’m sure you understand.”

The man starts wildly shaking his head, but then the shake turns to a spin as the growling treads melt through his neck. The head flies off behind his body, landing with a dull thud. His legs make a few weak movements that get weaker by the second, and then he stills.

I drop the chainsaw beside his body. While I’d love to leave Cat to freeze to death in the woods, Kindra wouldn’t like it if I let anything happen to her little pet. That’s why she kept me locked inside all morning. I’m not stupid.

And if Kindra isn’t happy, no one will be happy.

Cat’s footsteps are easy to follow. Even when the clouds begin to drop fat snowflakes on my head and the light begins to wane, I’m able to track her. She needs a few lessons in evasion if she ever wants to make something of herself.

The distance between each divot in the snow begins to shrink after a half hour, which means she’s getting winded. She’s slowing to a walk now. But then she surprises me. As the sun continues to dip, her path is harder to trace, and the increasing cold isn’t helping matters. Eventually, the footprints disappear altogether.

As I wrestle a small flashlight from my pocket, I realize just how frozen my toes and fingertips are. They’ve gone from cold to painful to numb, which means frostnip isn’t far off. If I’m in this shape, there’s no telling how bad off Cat is. I’ve been tracking her at a steady speed walk, but the girl has alternated between a full run and a jog, which means she’s likely doused herself in sweat.

That’s bad. That’sreallybad.

“Hey!” I yell into the shadows. “If you can hear me, we need to head back!”

I stand still and hold my breath, listening for movement or any sort of reply. I hear nothing.

If the sun is going down, that means it’s past two o’clock, and that means I’ve been chasing this bitch for nearly two hours. That’s about an hour and forty-five minutes longer than I thought I’d have to chase her.

It’s time to face facts. She’s outsmarted me, but she’s doomed herself.

She won’t survive out here all night, especially if she’s collapsed somewhere. If I can’t find her, all that sweat will ensure she’s a blonde icicle by morning. I can’t stand the little twerp, but I don’t want her to die.

Who will I torment if she’s gone?

I stop walking and pull down the half-mask that covers the lower half of my face. “I’m not a killer, so you can come out now!” I shout. “Well, I am a killer, but I’m not going to killyou. This cold won’t be so kind, though, kitten!”

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