Page 25 of Trick or Treat: The Rebirth
"You weren't joking, were you?" Michael asks, his eyes wide with shock.
"Nah," laughing, I shake my head and raise a brow. "He'll fuck anyone up who so much as looks at her."
"Impressive, nerd." Michael nods, pulling out a cigarette.
"Too impressive for comfort, if you ask me," Kell murmurs, his voice steady despite the chaos unfolding a few feet away. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, and the glow of the ember mirrors the excitement flickering in his eyes.
As I watch Reaper work methodically, I can’t help but feel a mixture of pride and concern. This wasn’t just a demonstration of training; it was a primal act of protection, a visceral reminder of the violent world we inhabit. The other guys might be entertained by the spectacle, but I know the kind of darkness lurking behind such brutal loyalty.
Scarlett's gaze is locked on the scene, her expression unreadable. Initially, she seemed surprised, but now, something else lights her eyes—a feral spark, perhaps a recognition of power. I step forward, but not too close, keeping a watchful eye on both her and the writhing man beneath my loyal companion.
“Scarlett!” I call out, my voice firm yet cautious. “Are you alright?”
She doesn’t respond right away, too caught up in the moment. Reaper continues to maul the man, the sounds of anguish mingling uncomfortably with the rustling leaves. My heart races; I never wanted this to escalate so quickly, nor had I anticipatedReaper would take it so far. Finally, Scarlett snaps out of her trance, a shiver running through her body.
“I—I’m fine,” she stutters, a slight tremor lacing her voice, but the fiery glint in her eyes tells a different story. She’s feeling something profound; I can see it—maybe exhilaration, or even a sense of empowerment. “Get him off!” she suddenly shouts, clenching her fists.
“Reaper, come!” I command, even though my heart feels heavy with the weight of pulling him away from something that could make him even more skilled as a protector. I reach forward, my voice steady but laced with urgency, “Come on, buddy.”
Reaper reluctantly obeys, releasing his grip but still standing over the broken figure, chest heaving, body poised and tense as if ready to defend Scarlett at a moment's notice. The body beneath him is unmoving now, blood pooling around his frame, a sickening reminder of the darkness lurking in the world.
"Shit, are we too late?" Michael breathes, stepping closer, concern etching lines across his face.
The silence is deafening, punctuated only by the sound of heavy breathing as we process what just happened. I feel a mix of guilt and triumph pressing down on my shoulders.
A reluctant agreement hangs in the air. We’ve all walked the line between right and wrong, and this night marks another course in our twisted destinies. Yet deep down, it feels like there’s no solid ground to stand on anymore; just shadows and fading light.
“We still need to get out of here,” I suggest, glancing back at the body and then around the otherwise calm park, casting my mind towards the shadows creeping in around us.
Kell nods, moving first, but I can see hesitance flickering in his movements as he pulls his cigarette from his lips and tosses it to the ground. As if it suddenly dawns on him not to leave his DNA at the scene, he reaches down and picks up the cigarette butt,putting it in his pocket. Scarlett heads towards me, brushing past Reaper as he obediently steps aside.
She looks up at me, eyes piercing through the murky confusion. “We need to make sure we can protect ourselves. This... this is just the beginning, but bringing a killer dog into things, fucking genius.”
I grin, feeling proud of all the hard work me and Reaper have done. I don't know what I expected when I started this walk. Maybe just a fun time with the guys. Perhaps getting to know each other more, without looking over my shoulder. But every step down this path is reminding me of who I am and who I've been, and it’s fucking terrifying—and oddly exhilarating at the same time.
As we make our way through the darkening park, Reaper glances back at me, seeking assurance in my presence. I reach down, giving his scruff a good scratch. "You did well, buddy. We'll figure this out together."
10
The Cross
Hunter
Imaintain a good distance from Scarlett as I follow her down the street. Although I just left her session, it didn’t feel like enough. I’m not ready to part ways just yet.
It’s been a while since our last meeting. The last time we saw her was in the park, the day Jax’s dog gruesomly mauled a guy to death. Since then, Scarlett has been pulling away from me—and them—perhaps spiraling as the anniversary of the horrors she endured approaches. She should be celebrating her hard-won second chance at life, yet she seems instead to be in mourning for the men who kidnapped, drugged, and assaulted her—twisted remnants of a love that once ensnared her. I have been laying the groundwork for her to forget them since shefirst came to me. I’ve allowed her to get close, while in turn, I’ve woven myself into her world more deeply than she realizes.
A late autumn wind sweeps through Salem, biting at my skin. I’m only in a white t-shirt, a leather jacket, and a pair of tattered blue jeans, unprepared for the chill. But I have no intention of staying outside for much longer.
I trail after Scarlett as she heads toward the church on First Street, far removed from the apartment where that horrific massacre occurred. I watch her enter and I settle back onto the front steps, lighting the preroll I had tucked behind my ear. With the church's windows open, I wouldn’t be surprised if she comes out to join me.
My gaze drifts over the stretch of land surrounding the church, landing on a small cemetery at the rear, hidden behind a tangle of overgrown bushes. The headstones are crumbling, and my eyes are drawn to a freshly dug mound of earth, a newly erected wooden cross strikingly bold against the decay. A sense of curiosity pulls me closer, and I take another hit as I walk toward the grave, my instincts whispering what it must signify.
As I pass the ancient, crumbling marble stones, I find myself before the new wooden cross, a mound of earth freshly placed at its base, broader than the others. A chill crawls down my spine as I read the stark inscription: "Blade, Saint, Nixon, and Riley." Just their names, nothing more, and the hollow simplicity unnerves me. I knew of her obsession with them, but I couldn’t fathom the depths of her fixation. What do I need to do for Scarlett to see me as she once saw them? Do I need to fucking kidnap her like they did?
Frustration flares within me as I shake off the initial shock, my heart racing with an anger that sweeps through the chill in the autumn air. Just then, the sound of crunching leaves draws my attention from behind, and I take another hit of the preroll, letting the smoke trail off into the wind.
“What are you doing here?” Scarlett’s voice is close, and I feel the sharp edge of her blade at my throat; she’s come prepared.
