Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
*Click here to review the terms and conditions of the games*
*Click here to accept or deny this invitation*
“Holy fucking shit!”
A wide grin rips across my face, and I immediately click the link to take me to the acceptance page, more than ready to dive headfirst into this.
My mouse hovers over the button to accept the invitation when my laptop remotely shuts down. “Woah, hold up, cowgirl,” Mila rushes out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“What do you mean? I’m accepting the invitation.”
“Like hell you are,” she throws back at me. “Are you literally insane? I know you’ve had this big fantasy about winning the games for the past few years and have scoured your emails every day of your damn life waiting for your personalized invitation, but you can’t be serious. Were you planning to think about this before you just hit accept?”
“What’s gotten into you today? What’s there to think about? I’ve been wanting to do this since before I can remember.”
“Oh my God. Do you have any regard for your own life?” Mila scolds.
I shrug my shoulders. We both know the answer to that, and to be completely honest, it’s a sore point between us. I do what I do, not only because I enjoy it and I’m good at it, but because I have nothing to lose. Mila is my only family. I don’t have brothers or sisters, nieces or nephews, and after my father attempted to kill me and I was put into foster care, my only remaining grandparents refused to take me and left me to suffer at the hands of terrible foster parents.
I don’t exactly know what’s waiting for me on the other side, but the one thing I do know is that it’s got to be better than this.
I don’t fear death.
I mean, sure. I fear the possibility of it happening in an excruciating way, of some crazed psychopath doing his worst and sending me to the other side with horror in my heart, but I don’t fear what comes after that . . . assuming something comes after that, of course.
Mila is all about rainbows, flowers, and unicorns. She’s my complete opposite, but we level each other out.
“You really don’t want me to do this?”
“Well, of course I don’t want you to do it,” she says. “But I know how much you’ve always wanted to, so I’m not going to stand in your way. I just think you should at least sleep on it first before you rush in. Maybe check out what Blue Springs has to offer and see if we can figure out who else has been invited to compete. Don’t get me wrong, I know you’ll kill it. You’re the best of the best, and I have faith that you’ll come out of this ten million dollars richer, but these other nineteen contenders weren’t selected for nothing. They’re just as good. Not to mention, they wouldn’t be afraid of death either.”
Letting out a sigh, I flop back onto my bed, hating that she has a very real, very valid point.
These games aren’t for the weak of heart. They’re brutal, violent, and bloody.
There will be a mix of twenty serial killers and assassins, each of them equally as skilled. These will be killers who have made headlines, killers who have made a name for themselves, and who provoke the most fear in the general population. These are people who are just as messed up as I am. Some of them have trained as spies, and their weapons are an extension of their bodies.
This isn’t something anybody should just dive headfirst into without at least considering the repercussions.
Could I be brutally murdered? Yes.
Could my whole world end in Blue Springs, Montana? Yes.
But would I have the time of my life and come out ten million dollars richer? Also yes.
As the invitation stated, War Games runs for a month, and during that time, twenty killers are bound to this one location. They must battle it out over the month. Hunt, track, and stalk before finally making their kills. Each contender will be pushed to their limits, they’ll be tricked, trapped, and slaughtered like caged animals. I couldn’t be more excited.
Each contender will play using their alias, keeping their true identity concealed. Mine is Siren, a name Mila gave me back when we had just met and she realized just how messed up I was. I like to lure bad men into traps, just like the way a siren of the sea lures sailors to their deaths. The name has stuck ever since, and my real name has become someone I don’t even know.
Once you’ve made your kill, you’re awarded the identification of your prey. If your prey already has kills under their belt, you also claim ownership over them. The goal is to be the last one standing by the end of the month, claiming all nineteen identifications. If more than one contender stands by the games’ end, nobody wins, and you’re all eliminated . . . not just from the games, but permanently.