Page 25 of Ruthless God

“How in the heck did you catch me? I don’t even know where I’m at!”

“I told you, I’ve done this before. You’re not the first person to think they could outrun me.” He leans in closer, and the smell of dirt, sweat, and something darker—something more dangerous—fills my nostrils. His breath is warm on my ear as he whispers, “And now it’s time for my prize.”

I try to twist away, my pulse hammering in my throat, but he holds me firm. The sound of the knife tapping against his leg makes my skin prickle.

“Let me go,” I snap, my voice trembling despite my best efforts. “You said I had a head start. You promised!”

He laughs, a harsh sound that echoes in the trees. “Promises mean nothing in a game like this, Cecely. It’s not about promises. It’s about who’s faster. Smarter.” He lets go of one of my arms, but before I can react, he uses it to pull me closer, hisface inches from mine. “And now you’re about to learn what it means to lose.”

My heart slams against my ribcage, and I don’t know whether to run, fight, or beg. The knife in his hand gleams in the pale moonlight, the edge catching just enough light to remind me how sharp it is. My mind races as I weigh my options.

Escape. Fight back. Keep him off balance. My body’s on autopilot now, every instinct screaming at me to break free, to do something. Anything.

But Ghosty’s too damn fast.

Before I can even think of an escape plan, he shifts, his hold tightening again, and the knife slides under my chin, the cold steel grazing my skin. My breath catches in my throat.

“I’ll give you one last chance,” he says, his voice dark with anticipation. “You can either stay with me, or you can run again. But know this. I will always catch you.”

The chill of the blade is unbearable, but it’s the words that freeze me.

My heart is still pounding, but now it’s for a different reason. The rhythm of it is erratic, the pulse thrumming through me in waves that I can’t control. Every instinct tells me to back away, to push him off, to run. But something else—a darker, deeper part of me—reaches out, desperate to feel the heat of him closer, to embrace the chaos that he's bringing.

This is madness. I shouldn’t want this. I shouldn’t even be here. But as I look into Ghosty’s eyes, something in me stirs. His gaze is a predator’s, sharp, unrelenting, but there's something else too, something raw, something dangerous that draws me in. I know I should fight it, but I give in.

I swallow hard, moistening my lips, feeling the weight of his presence like a physical thing pressing against me.

“What do you want?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

His knee shifts between my legs, pushing them apart, a slow, deliberate movement that sends a shiver up my spine. The action is simple, but it’s loaded with meaning, and the air thickens with it. He leans in, his breath brushing across my skin, and his voice—low and dark—slides over me like silk.

“I want what you offered earlier,” he murmurs, the words wrapped in a challenge. “Are you going to be a good girl and give it to me?”

The question hangs in the air, loaded with expectation. My pulse is a drumbeat in my ears now, my chest tight with a mixture of dread and something far more unsettling. I don’t answer immediately. The weight of his words presses against me, making everything feel amplified, every sound sharper, every breath heavier.

But as I look at him, I know. Deep down, I know what I want. I’ve made a choice, and I can’t take it back. I’ve already crossed that line, and now it’s time to face it.

I take a breath, my voice trembling as I say, “Yes.”

The word feels foreign as it slips from my lips, but it's also the truth. I can't deny it anymore.

His eyes darken with approval, the glint of something primal flashing behind them. Without breaking his gaze, he drops the knife to the ground with a soft thud, the sound too loud in the silence. The tension in the air crackles as his hand reaches up, his fingers brushing lightly against my lips, a touch so gentle it feels like it could burn.

The world seems to slow, the space between us thick with everything unspoken, everything that’s just beneath the surface. I don’t know where this is going, or what will happen next, but at this moment, I can’t look away.

And for the first time since this game began, I wonder if I ever truly wanted to escape at all.

“Get on your hands and knees.”

5

Cecely

“Get on your hands and knees.”

I follow his command, the words hanging in the air like a weight I can’t shake off. My heart is pounding so loudly I can hear nothing else, but I obey. There’s no real hesitation, not in the action itself, but in the voice inside my head that screams, This isn’t you. You’re not this person. Still, my body moves before my mind can catch up.

My hands sink into the damp soil, fingers trembling as I grip the cold earth. The night is quiet around us, only the sound of my breath and the rustling of leaves in the breeze filling the space. The earth feels strangely grounding beneath my palms, the wetness of the dirt seeping into my skin like a reminder of everything that’s happening, of everything I’m letting happen.

---