Page 14 of The Hunted
Interesting.
She didn’t have time to process what Santino said because his friend walked over, clapping him on the shoulder. “We should get back. We only had a short break.” The air seemed to shift around them, making her want to take a step back. If she concentrated enough, she could hear annoyance coating his friend’s words. She wondered what the dynamic between them was. Especially, as she watched Santino’s shoulders pull up into his neck and his hands ball into fists. She didn’t think he liked his friend too much.
“You can go. I still have time.” Santino’s voice was cold, devoid of any emotion, but he never took his eyes off of her. They were filled with heat that kept her warm while he aimed his frigid blast at his friend.
The sound of a phone ringing had him cursing. He dug into his shorts pocket and pulled out a smart phone. He answered with a clipped tone but didn’t say anything else until he hung up. He let out a long breath. She knew he actually had to go, and she didn’t want to analyze why that disappointed her.
“I guess sparring is going to have to wait,” he murmured.
They both stood there, neither one willing to move or say anything else. They didn’t want their time to end but neither was pushing the other for more.
“Alvarez.” His friend was starting to piss her off too.
Maybe that’s why she grabbed Santino’s phone out of his hand before she turned it back toward him to unlock.
Surprise flitted through his eyes, but he unlocked the phone, and she made quick work of putting her number into his contacts. “Text me, please don’t call me. I hate talking on the phone. But when you’re ready to spar, we can spar, and the terms still stand. You win, I’ll go out with you. If I win, I get anything I want.” She handed the phone back to him, and he kept hold of her hand. He glanced at his friend before he brought her hand up to his lips for a quick kiss, and she had to bite back the chuckle that bubbled up.
It was a dick move, but she approved.
“It’s a deal, princess. But make sure you respond to the text. Don’t want you flaking out on me with the ‘I didn’t see your text’ excuse the next time I see you.” He turned to walk away, but she couldn’t let him have the last word, especially after he admitted he was going to see her again.
“Nice of you to admit that you are stalking me,” she sing-songed. He stopped short before he threw his head back, barking out a loud laugh that had her grinning like a fool.
She couldn’t wait to see him again.
The Reaper made a small incision across the stomach of the pretty blonde strapped to the table. The small whimper she let out was music to the Reaper’s ears. Hearing the pain in that small sound was almost the perfect dopamine hit. The last few bodies the Reaper toyed with had to be knocked out before they got to work. Everything had to be set up just right so it looked like the Midnight Strangler had been behind the kill. Though, leaving the poems had no doubt thrown the FBI off…if Santino actually gave those poems over to the authorities.
“They’re all so stupid.” The Reaper spoke as they continued to cut into the porcelain flesh. The crimson color slowly pooled to the surface before dripping out of her body. There were so many cuts on her skin, some little knicks to toy with her and others worse for wear from when she tried to escape.
That had been fun.
The Reaper untied her, curious to see what the blonde would do. There had been begging, always with the begging. Even now as they continued to cut into her flesh, her eyes were pleading, trying to make them stop. It was disgusting. People’s last moments on Earth, and the first thing they did was try to appeal to some human part in the Reaper.
As if it existed.
But the blonde had surprised them. Once she realized the begging hadn’t worked, she made a horrible attempt at escaping. The Reaper pressed their finger into the open wound on her leg, causing her to flinch. “I hate that I didn’t give you this. But it will throw them off when they try to figure out my why.”
The Reaper looked down at the blonde. “I wish I could tell them you fell on the knife while fleeing instead of coming at me. How embarrassing. You’re like every horror movie cliche come to life.” The Reaper chuckled. “Why didn’t you try to come at me? Did you think you had a better chance of running? I mean, either way you wouldn’t have survived, but where is your fight? Shit.”
A single tear slipped down the blonde’s eyes. “Oh no, ew, don’t cry. You were doing so well. I hate tears.” The Reaper let out a sound of disgust.
“Please stop,” the blonde whimpered.
“I can’t.” They whispered. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t.” The Reaper got lower, watching as the knife pushed into her flesh. The resistance was there—her body fighting back against the intrusion—but with enough pressure everything eventually broke.
“They have so many case files on me, and they don’t even know where to look. It’s quite sad when you think about it. But what do we expect when they let him work among them?” The Reaper stood and quickly slashed the blonde’s wrists and walked back to the table with the rest of their tools. The blonde would bleed out slowly, not their preferred method, but they had plans for their little guest.
“You know, I knew him when he was Saint Alonso.” The Reaper scoffed. “He’d never been a Saint. I overheard one of the case workers say he skinned a small animal and stuffed the carcass into the mouth of another child who bullied him. But it hadn’t ended there. He tried to set the kid on fire.”
The Reaper whistled. “Can you imagine? At seven he knew how to cause damage. I always wondered how he got away with becoming an FBI agent when his file had that little tidbit tucked away. He didn’t stop either.” The Reaper shrugged. “In any case, age has made him soft. He gets his thrills now from being some type of vigilante. What are you girls calling them now? The anti-hero?”
They went into their pants pocket and pulled out a piece of paper with names on it. Marcus and Chester were crossed off but there were still six other names on the paper. Six wastes of spaces. Six other guilty parties that the system had managed to let walk away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist and a fine to be paid.
“Which one will you choose, Alvarez?” The Reaper studied the names, trying to figure out how he’d make his next move. Sarah would be the obvious choice, since they left the taunt in the note. Santino would think she was already dead and not waste his time. Armando was the next obvious choice and probably would have been next if they hadn’t gotten to Chester and Marcus first. Alvarez was going to try and outsmart them, try and be two steps ahead of them, but how can anyone be ahead when they don’t know all the rules to the game?
“What do you think? Should we up the stakes a little bit?” The Reaper questioned the blonde. Her body, or maybe her mind, was trying to fight the inevitable. She tugged at her restraints and her breathing increased. The movement sped up the blood flow out of all her wounds. It was a terrible way to go, bleeding out, but it was always intriguing to watch. No two bodies reacted the same, but that death rattle always hit them like no other high ever could and hers would come soon.
The Reaper walked back toward the blonde, running a gloved hand against her shapely legs. “I think this part of your body will send a fun message.” They smiled and put the paper back in their pocket. “Don’t worry, your death won’t be in vain. You’ll be the perfect gift for Alvarez.”
