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)
I roll my eyes. It’s about time the fucker realized he was in trouble.
His burger is lowered from his mouth, and he glances over his shoulder to see The Boneyard Slayer hurrying after him, and to be honest, it’s not a pretty sight. The Boneyard Slayer looks like an overweight ex-football player who’s trying to play with his kids, but the fitness just isn’t there anymore, and even from my vantage point on the roof, I can hear his heavy panting.
Sharkbait’s eyes widen in horror, and it’s clear he had no idea how easy he was to track. He pauses for just a second, and as he frantically looks around to make a game plan, he finally notices The Texan Reaper across the road.
My brow arches, waiting to see what will happen, but more importantly, needing to learn their style. Sharkbait all but shits his pants, and as The Texan Reaper steps off the sidewalk with the intent to cross the road, Sharkbait takes off, sprinting down a back alley.
I skip across to the next roof, giving myself a better viewpoint, and as Sharkbait bolts down the alley, the brothers follow closely. I shake my head. I should have known Sharkbait would be foolish. He doesn’t strike me as the type to have basic survival instincts.
The alley he chose is a dead end, and all he’s managed to do is back himself into a corner. Knowing your surroundings is the first rule of the business. You always need an escape plan. Every time you step out of the house, you need to know where you are at all times and how to disappear—especially in a town where the cops are aware of War Games. Hell, over the past week, Blue Springs managed to bring in some cops from the next city over and a few FBI agents as backup, not that it’ll be an issue for me or any of the other top killers in these games. While the FBI certainly are good at what they do, we’re better.
As for Sharkbait, he seems like the type to make colossal mistakes and have his ass hauled away in cuffs. Though considering tonight’s latest mistake, he won’t ever see the light of day again.
The brothers slow their advance, allowing Sharkbait more than enough time to work himself into a cold sweat, and though it’s a little late, it looks like those basic survival instincts have finally kicked in.
The brothers stalk him like prey, creeping deeper into the alley, and as I watch them, my earlier thoughts are confirmed once again. The Texan Reaper is the one calling the shots. His brother follows his lead and waits to be told what to do. I can’t help but wonder why. Is The Boneyard Slayer not capable of calling the shots? Does he not have the brains to pull off a kill by himself? Though one thing is for sure, despite this being a team effort, something tells me that The Texan Reaper is the one who’s going to walk away with Sharkbait’s identity tonight.
Sharkbait makes a move, realizing he still holds his burger in his hand, and in a split-second decision, launches it at The Texan Reaper’s face. Both of the brothers are caught off guard and Sharkbait uses the distraction to make his move, sprinting as fast as he can between them.
The Texan Reaper roars in frustration as the burger lingers on his face, and as Sharkbait tries to make a run for it, The Boneyard Slayer’s hand whips out, clutching Sharkbait by the back of his man bun.
He hauls him back and throws him hard against the brick wall of the alley. I can practically hear his skull crack with the force of the throw, but he barely gets a chance to cry out as the brothers launch their brutal attack on him, letting out every bit of their anger.
It’s disgusting. I don’t like brutal kills like this.
Taking a life is supposed to be poetic. There’s supposed to be an art to it, but this is just messy. It’s anger and revulsion, brute strength against a man who had no hope of defending himself. I don’t like it; there’s no honor or compassion here, but it’s not my problem to deal with right now. I’ll make it right when I end their lives.
With disgust pulsing heavily through my veins, I don’t bother to watch the end of their brutal kill, but as I turn to go, something in the darkness catches my attention.
Shadow.
Only she’s not watching the brothers make their kill, she’s watching me.
“HEY!” I call out, and in a split second, she’s gone.
Fuck.
I take off at a sprint, hurrying after her and tracking her into the darkness. My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath, running down the street and bypassing the alley where the brothers are violently taking a life. I search the darkened street, trying to listen to my senses, but just like the first time I went after Shadow, she vanishes like a ghost.