Page 92 of The Hunted
The Reaper squatted down next to Santino. Their computerized voice sounding more human and hurt as they spoke.
Santino contemplated knocking the Reaper down, ending this here once and for all, but they were eager for the story the Reaper believed.
“What happens when you have to learn to survive? You adapt.” Their gaze flicked over to where Sarah’s lifeless body was. “I learned, like you did, how to purge what we went through. All those bodies we piled up, I always wondered if it was something that lived and breathed inside of us or if it was nurtured and grown on cold floors, by hands too old and too rough?”
The Reaper stood to their full height. “If you remembered, you’d know they were the reasons I do what I do, but you’re also responsible too.” They drove their foot into his balls, and his body jacked knifed off the floor.
“You forgot about me,” the Reaper hissed. “Do you remember now? Do you understand why the hunter has become the hunted? It doesn’t matter.” The Reaper waved a hand in front of their face before they squatted down next to him again. “I won’t send law enforcement here. It’s my favor to you. You’ll have time to clean up the mess you’ve made but not before….”
Santino didn’t have time to react. One minute he was staring up at the Reaper, the next his vision swam and he was being pulled under into an unconscious.
He dreamed that night.
He dreamed of a pair of eyes that had him under a spell.
He dreamed of the Reaper.
Of knowing exactly who they were.
He dreamed of the pain that knowledge brought forth.
He dreamed of watching the light fade from a pair of pretty mismatched eyes.
ChapterThirty-Five
Silva reached her arms over head and stretched, shifting side to side to work out the kinks in her body. She’d been curved over her laptop screen for the last three hours trying to get out her pieces for the magazine. Her company did three releases a week. She tried to keep herself ahead by a month if she could help it. She’d been cranking away on her laptop feeling a burst of creative energy, and she was just now coming up for air.
“Man, I need a massage.” She took her glasses off, rubbing her eyes. She’d gotten her contact dislodged and stuck a couple of days ago. It had been aggravating trying to get it out. Now, her eyes burned when she tried to put them on, so she had to stick with glasses until her eyes healed. She didn’t like wearing them, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Her phone buzzed on the table. She flipped it over to see Santino’s name across the screen. She did a little dance in her seat, excitement bubbling through her. They hadn’t seen each other in a couple of days, though they kept talking through text and she missed him. She got used to spending time in his apartment. She enjoyed waking up to his motor-sounding snoring, loved the heat his body radiated, and loved how he fucked her to sleep and woke her up the same way.
Silva pressed a palm to her throat, her own body warming. She shifted in her seat, feeling the phantom echo of Santino moving inside of her. Her breath left her in awhoosh.She licked her lips, feeling his fingers against her skin. She knew he was busy with his case, but her body was craving his.
She unlocked the phone:
Santino: Are you finished with your work? I want to see you. Can I come pick you up? Did you say you were going to the café today?
She made a raspberry sound. She wasn’t even close to being done. It seemed like with everything going on lately, her readers were eager for advice on how to live life because one day it might be their last. She thought it was absurd that people thought like that. Death was the only guarantee in this life. Nothing could change it and yet, it took death breathing down their neck to realize they weren’t immune to the grim reaper.
Silva: I still have more to write.
Silva: like an ungodly amount.
Silva: But I needed a break. Wrist and back were hurting.
Silva: my eyes are burning too.
Silva: don’t think I can stare at a screen much longer.
Silva: and yes you can come pick me up at the café.
Silva dropped the phone, rubbing the back of her neck. She cracked it a few times and glanced around the café. It had slowed down considerably since she came in this morning. She was surprised at how packed it was, considering there was a dead body dumped at the front door not that long ago.
Maybe it was morbid curiosity that kept them coming back for the caffeine fix. Who knew? Silva had come here because she thought it would be empty and she couldn’t stare at her four walls any longer.
She yawned and stood up to stretch her legs. She needed to get feeling back in her ass and hips, sitting for long periods wreaked havoc on the body. She walked over to the counter to order an iced tea. She wanted coffee, but three cups was her limit. She paid the cashier, wincing when her hand cramped up.
Okay, we definitely have to call it a day.
