Page 90 of The Hunted
“There’s nowhere to go,” Santino taunted.
“Isn’t there?” The Reaper chuckled. “You seem to think you’re in control here. But are you really?” they whispered.
“I am.” It wasn’t arrogance that emboldened him.
He was starting to understand the rules to the game the Reaper started. They hadn’t given any slack with the weapons when Santino crowded their space. The knife was still pressed firmly under his chin, and the barrel of the gun was digging into his stomach. If the Reaper was trigger-happy, all it would take was a sharp breath, and there would be a nice hole in Santino’s stomach.
But where was the poetry in that—in this run in?
This moment had been a surprise for both of them. If the Reaper was anything like Santino, when it came to their kills, things had to be in a set order or it would ruin the enjoyment.
Santino was walking out of here with his heart still pumping, which gave him an edge over the Reaper.
“I think I understand now,” Santino started. His fingers twitched at his side, getting ready to move.
The Reaper’s eyes narrowed, and try as Santino might, he couldn’t get that damn familiarity to click in his mind. He felt like he knew who was standing in front of him—could feel it in his bones. There was only one way to solve his curiosity.
“You’re not going to do anything to me here. You can’t,” Santino whispered. “It would ruin your plans.” He slowed his breathing, knowing once he decided to move, he would need to move fast. “I’ve read all the notes you’ve left behind, plus I saw you creeping into Chester’s house.”
He leaned closer to the Reaper. “You plan for everything, and our finale wasn’t supposed to happen yet. That tells me everything I need to know. You’re not going to do anything to me.”
“Won’t I?” The Reaper’s eyes sparkled, almost like they were enjoying themselves as much as he was. “If I’ve planned for everything, who says I didn’t plan for you to come here?”
“You could have. Shit, you probably did. But, not like this.” Santino could hear his guardian in his mind telling him to be cautious. There was an urgency to back away and leave before the Reaper changed their mind about not hurting him here, but he ignored it.
When would he get this opportunity again? When would he have the upper hand like he did now? No one was going to come check on Sarah Brown, and whoever was left standing would bury her body anyway. They had all night to play.
“I think,” he whispered, keeping his eyes locked in with the Reaper’s. “You’re going to let me do anything I want.”
Santino moved too slowly. He hesitated and it cost him. The second he reached for the Reaper’s mask, the blow to the stomach knocked the air out of his lungs. He stumbled back just enough to catch a fist to the jaw that had him seeing spots. He narrowly missed the knee to his face.
He righted himself, taking several steps back. He tried to slow his breathing down, and he rubbed at his jaw. That was going to bruise tomorrow. He swallowed the blood pooling in his mouth, not wanting to leave parts of himself in this cabin. Short of burning it to the ground, blood was hard to get out of wood.
The Reaper had moved from around the kitchen island. They were closer to the back door now, the gun no longer in their hands, but the knife was pointed in Santino’s direction. “Told you so,” They mused.
“That you hit like a bitch?” Santino scoffed. “You pulled your punch there.” He wasn’t sure if they did. He hoped it wasn’t the case. Anything harder would have broken his jaw. “So I guess I am right. You won’t hurt me if you want to keep this game in play.”
Take the bait.
Santino’s fingers twitched. He wanted to get the Reaper to engage for no other reason than ripping the mask they wore off their face. This chance meeting was a gift. He wasn’t about to let either of them walk away without knowing who the Reaper was.
A low sob broke through the air, followed by a gurgling sound. Santino’s gaze flicked toward Sarah Brown. He’d been so focused on the Reaper he missed the cut across her neck. She’d been bleeding out this entire time, and he hadn’t been paying attention.
Because the Reaper is more important. Take the bait.
“It looks like our time is almost up, Midnight Strangler.” The mask the Reaper wore pulled at the corners. “I’d say it’s been a pleasure, but I’d be lying.” They bowed. “Oh, and before I go. You’re not dealing with an amateur. You would have had to try a lot harder to rile me up enough that I’d take the bait and want to fight.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Santino feigned indifference. But inside, he was frustrated. He thought for sure he’d get the Reaper to attack him.
“Sure you don’t.” They winked. “You’re a liar to everyone else, but you can’t lie to me. I bid thee adieu.” The Reaper turned to leave but quickly glanced back over their shoulder. “Don’t follow me out.” They pointed the knife at him. “The body is yours to do with as you wish, and before you waste your time, you won’t find traces of my DNA anywhere in here. I am, after all, thorough and better than you. Tootles.”
Santino was officially dismissed. He didn’t like that one bit. He was torn between letting the Reaper leave to regroup and attacking the Reaper now to unmask them.
The latter won out.
Santino charged, staying light on his feet. He meant to rush the Reaper before they reached the door, but they turned at the last second, sidestepped with enough space to land a kick to Santino’s mid-section. His body folded in on itself.
Fuck.
