Page 22 of Kortlek

Until every single one of these bastards has met the death they deserve.

It’s never a quick death; no, that’s too easy. The torture, the begging, and the screams of pure agony — that’s why we do this. Until the prey are begging and wailing — just like their victims did. And we’ll never grant them the mercy of an easy way out.

In some ways, many people would group us together, calling us monsters.

I prefer the term villains. We’ll become the villains of the monsters' nightmares, haunting them into the afterlife. The last thing they see will be our faces, painted in their pathetic blood. And their last thoughts will be that no one is coming to save them.

Completely at our mercy.

The woman hides behind a tree. My feet come to a halt, and then I sneak up behind the tree. I peek around, and she’s crouching down, holding a knife in one hand, while having the other hand pressed firmly against her mouth.

From the darkness, I can see her eyes shining with tears. It warms my heart. This is so fucking adorable, it almost makes me want to go easy on her. Almost, of course. That won’t happen just because she sheds a tear or two.

She’s petrified. She doesn’t notice me looking at her, looming over her figure. She hiccups twice, then squeezes her eyes shut. I notice the way her throat moves up and down when she swallows thickly, and a smile forms on my face.

In a world filled with these kinds of people, I don’t mind being portrayed as the bad one. I never claimed to be a saint, and if Heaven exists, its doors have closed for me a long time ago. For now, I’ll enjoy the path that leads me to Hell.

I move forward, my boots creaking under my feet, a branch snapping.

Her eyes fly open, looking at me with a terrified expression. A wicked smirk tugs on the corner of my lips as I step forward.

“Found you, mousie.’’

CHAPTER TEN

All inside me is screaming to run after Aria. I can practically feel the excitement and adrenaline boil from her body, and I know she’s not thinking straight. Yes, all of this is a game. But even so, the prey have weapons. Real ones, she can fucking die in an instant if she’s not careful enough.

I just know this will come to bite me in the ass. Arlo told me to move her from here, and I did the opposite — I let her run free, chasing the prey with no supervision. It’s not that I’m doubting her skills; I know that Hudson and Noelle have taught her well.

I’m fucking terrified she’ll be reckless enough and get hurt. She’s the kind of person to get so absorbed that she won’t notice someone approaching her. It makes my stomach twist and turn in agony, the mere thought of someone ambushing her.

But I can’t run after her.

I have to stay put and deal with these bastards.

Of-fucking-course, they don’t come at me one at a time. Bullets start flying around, and immediately, I’m pissed. This just means that I’ll have to kill them immediately, or at least two of them, and save one to toy around with.

They’re clearly not used to wielding guns, as their bullets go astray in every direction except me. With a deep laugh, I aim my gun and start shooting. It’s dark to see properly, but that’s half of the fun. Maybe I’ll just wound them. Maybe it’ll be a clean shot between their eyes.

Who knows?

As my gun goes off, one of them falls down. It’s still alive, but it’s on the ground, whimpering and groaning in pain. The bullet doesn’t seem to be fatal, since I can see it squirming and trying to sit up. My eyes move to the next one.

The blazer on me is too fucking tight. I’m pretty sure it’s already snapped in a spot or two. I duck down, the bullet missing me by barely an inch. It only makes the excitement pump more in my veins, my entire body feeling on fire.

One of them tries sneaking up behind me. I push my elbow, successfully hitting its side. I don’t give it enough time to recover and put a bullet right between its eyes. The blood splashes, coating my mask. I wipe it on the back of my palm and carry on to the last one.

Oh.

Would you look at that?

The pathetic little pest passed out from fear. A chuckle slips from me, and I shake my head. How fucking predictable. This happens at least once or twice every time. Arlo and I made a bet, with me betting that there’d be at least one prey fainting and him being overly confident that it can’t possibly happen again.

I’m about five hundred bucks richer.

I put a bullet through its skull, then turn my attention to the one still whimpering in pain, struggling to sit up straight.

My hands reach to loosen my tie, then I toss the fucking blazer to the side. I crouch down next to it, realizing it’s a man, roughly my age. A stench fills my nose, and I suppress the urge to gag, only to realize that the motherfucker pissed himself from sheer fear.

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