Page 71 of The Games We Play

All I have use for right now is the killer that lives inside my soul.

I reach the center of the chaos, entering through the same door I took Puppet out of. Blood coats the floor from the bodies lying around.

I raise my pistol, ready for anything, as I walk deeper into the thick of it.

A shoulder buries into my ribs, and I’m tackled from the side. The air is knocked from my lungs as I’m slammed into the tile floor with a crack. My pistol flies from my grip and slides across the room.

I throw a stray elbow and kick out to get away from my attacker so I can shove to my feet and whirl. With raised fists, I stand ready to fight.

Scott straightens, his right ear bandaged, and shaggy black hair soaked with blood—or sweat, I can’t be sure—hangs down into his eyes.

“I knew you’d try something tonight. I warned him, and we were ready. You just couldn’t let your bitch get away from you, could you? Thinking with your cock like every other idiot in this goddamn world.”

I watch his movements. There’s a slight sway to his left leg like he’s been wounded.

“Take off your mask, Lance. Let’s make this a fair fight. Face to face.”

I slowly slide my mask over my face and drop it to the floor, his gun poised and ready, aimed between my eyes.

“Then drop the gun,” I challenge. “Or can you not beat me at hand-to-hand combat?”

“As much as I’d love to entertain your delusions that you could beat me, I havemy petto find.” His eyes light up with hunger, and I know he means Puppet.

“I won’t let that happen,” I retort, every muscle in my body screaming to take him out now.

“You won’t be here to stop me.” Scott’s pointer finger moves over the trigger, and everything slows.

This is it. I can’t dodge a bullet.

This is how my life ends.

And she’s safe. Doc will take care of her. He promised.

My eyes flutter closed as peace carries me to death’s door. The peace of knowing that out of every horrible and unmentionable thing I’ve done in this life, I’ve saved her. Even when I didn’t deserve her, she stayed. She chose me in all my dark and jagged edges. She saw the monster I was and felt safe with it. That’s more than I ever thought I’d have.

The gunshot rings out, and I wait for the pain, for Satan himself to climb from the pits of hell just to drag me back down.

Is death this painless?

This quick?

Is it really this easy?

“X?” Puppet’s faraway voice snaps my eyes open. Scott lies in front of me, dead. I jerk my head to the side, and she’s standing there holding a gun, frozen, aimed at the place Scott just stood.

“It’s you? You’re—” The doors behind us open, and her words cut off. I spin, placing myself between her and whoever is coming.

November leads her troops. All of them are bloodied but alive, from my count. She raises her hand to signal everyone to stop, and even though we’re supposed to be on the same team, I keep my guard up.

“He escaped,” she states, and I know she means Darius. “He couldn’t have got far. Spread out, keep a low profile. When you get eyes on him, stand by for instructions.”

Everyone disperses. Everyone but Puppet and me.

“And what do we have here?” November asks, looking past me, and I move to stand in front of her gaze. “Darius’ daughter? My, my, isn’t this my lucky day?”

“I’ll escort her,” I say, drawing her attention.

Her scrutinizing gaze lands on me, and I will my features not to give away just how much I know. “Doc disappeared after you left, Lance. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

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