Page 12 of Stream & Scream
Her eyes are stuck open, green and glassy, lashes wet with tears that never hit the ground. She’s still warm when I let her drop. Still twitching when the pulse in her neck gives up. The red blink of her wrist-cam reflects in the puddle beside her face recording nothing but aftermath now.
Me, fading into the dark like a ghost with teeth.
She begged. Of course she did. They always do when they realize I’m real.
I found her in that little clearing with the vines, the one near the east fence line where the signal dips just enough to feel isolated but not enough to call it safe. She heard the rustle too late. Turned around too slow. By the time her eyes found me, Iwas already behind her. No theatrics, or speech. Just the fucking blade—up and in, low under the ribs, dragging sideways.
Sheclawedat my chest like nails could undo it.
Sobbedlike she thought it would matter.
Like it wasn’t already over.
Auburn hair tangled in my fingers when I tilted her head back. Wavy, soft, sticking to the sweat on her cheeks as she slid to her knees. I let her fall slowly. Watched the light glitch in those green eyes. Now, her body’s draped like a discarded puppet on the forest floor.
All strings severed.
All chances gone.
I don’t look back. I never do.
Drone three's already circling her body like a vulture with a 4K lens. They’ll cut the footage wide—soft light through the trees, blood dripping slow, her eyes wide and glossy. The leaves drink it up like they’ve been thirsty all year.
Cinematic as fuck.
I drop into the trees again, boots sinking into soft ground. Every movement is clean. Precise. No wasted sound. I’ve seen warzones quieter than this forest, but the thing is… they still don’t get it.
They scream like prey, but not the smart kind. The panicked kind. Loud. Clumsy. Like they think screaming helps. It doesn’t.
It just narrows the radius.
I toggle my interface, flicking through wrist-cam feeds. The feeds ripple with movement.
Milo’s voice is buzzing in my ear again.
“Slow down, Jax. We’ve got cameras to feed. Let ‘em run a little.”
I ignore him.
Naomi was just the warm-up. I’m not here forthem.
I’m here forher.
Feed 12 pulses on my interface—Liv.
She moves like she knows she’s being watched. There's no fear in the way she carries herself, just caution.
For now.
Unlike the others.
She didn’t see Naomi die. But I know she heard her scream. It sliced through the woods like a flare in pitch black. It was the kind of sound that rewires your instincts. I rewind the feed, slow it down, because I want to watch the exact moment it hits her.
There.
Her breath stutters. Her body flinches. Her head jerks toward the sound, but she can’t see anything beyond her firelight. Her eyes go wide—too wide. Like she’s trying to convince herself it wasn’t what it was. That someone’s just playing.Acting. That this is still some sick game.
But deep down? She knows better.
