Page 96 of Cruel Cravings

I glance up at Mrs. Vanderson with a knife clenched in my hand and a dark look of bloodlust on my face.

She staggers back, mouth agape and eyes wide with terror. “H-Harold…”

I push myself up slowly, moving like an animal in the wild stalking its prey seconds before it strikes.

“D-Don’t you dare!” she commands. “Don’t you dare come at me, you little psycho!”

When I fake a leap toward her, she squeals like a pig.

I grin and tilt my head to the side. “If I were you, I’d run.”

June lets out a strangled noise—half a sob, half a whimper—before she turns and flees, her heels clicking wildly against the checkered tiles as she crosses the huge foyer.

I give her a head start, rolling my shoulders and taking in a breath. Mr. Vanderson’s blood drips from the edge of the knife and splatters onto the floor, adding to what was already a gruesome scene.

As she’s reaching the grand staircase that leads up to the other floors, I’m on her, closing the gap. My strides are quick and smooth as I come up the rear, the knife clenched in my hand. She’s barely made it up the first few steps by the time I’m reaching the bottom one. Her long ballgown sweeps along the steps with her as I lunge forward and grab the thick brocade fabric and give a hard yank.

Mrs. Vanderson’s wrenched off her feet. She slams into the stairs with a high-pitched shriek. Her arms stretch out in front of her as if she hopes she’ll still be able to crawl her way up. But she’s sorely mistaken as I shove her squirming body over onto her back. Any color has seeped from her complexion, a pale, slack-jawed woman peering up at me as if I’m the grim reaper she’s always feared.

I hold the knife within view, making sure she sees the way the blood gleams on the blade. “Do you want me to let you in on a little secret?”

She tries to shake her head to the side, but the rest of her body trembles instead.

“It wasn’t me who your asshole of a husband recognized,” I say. I lean closer ’til my face hovers inches away from hers. “It was my sister. And something tells me you two weren’t very nice to her.”

Her breath hitches. A flicker of recognition passes through her expression before disdain masks it.

She knows exactly who my sister is.

Her lips curl in a sneer, then, without warning, she spits at me. A warm glob of saliva hits my cheek. “Of course we weren’t! We don’t associate with degenerate little Black bitches like you!”

I plunge the knife into her chest and shut her up for good.

She gasps, a sharp, icy breath shuddering out of her. Her body goes rigid as if she can’t bring herself to react more thanthe shocked stare she gives me. Her eyes lock with mine and she holds it as long as she can before closing them.

My pulse pounds with triumphant. The adrenaline rush is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. It’s as if I’ve taken revenge on behalf of my sister, even if she might not be aware that I have.

The Vandersons spent weeks betting on the lives of the people playing this game. They laughed and drank champagne as blood was spilled and lives were lost. They treated them like nothing more than horses in a horse race, and I know with certainty they couldn’t have been any better to my sister.

Nobody under this roof deserves mercy.

None of them should be spared. If they made my sister suffer, then I’ll make them suffer. I’ll take them down myself.

The high lingers like some exhilarating drug, making me feel electric. I wrestle the knife from the deep gash on Mrs. Vanderson’s chest and start plotting on where I can go next to find Imani.

The clack of footsteps stops me.

Someone’s in the foyer, probably the person I had seen approaching earlier. His steps are measured and unhurried, one after the other in calm and controlled fashion.

I turn my head for a glimpse over my shoulder and my insides clench at who I find.

Dr. Wolford climbs the staircase toward me, his round glasses paired with the smug expression on his face. He stops a stair away from me and stares down at me like he’d done so many times in his office.

Pityingly. Condescendingly.

With amusement.

As if he’s in on some joke that I’ll never get. I’m too stupid or silly or crazy to understand.

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