Page 20 of Natural-Born Cullers

Then, easing back, Goth took hold of something, and gently eased it out.

A rib, all white bone smeared with blood met the cool of the tunnel. Then another came, another, and Alec couldn’t stop staring as all of Noah’s ribs were pulled out and bound with thin rope, all to make it look like curved bat wings escaping his back. Albeit bat wings without any skin.

Goth gave such a satisfied nod, then with a knee on Noah’s ass for support, he reached in, sorted around for something, then pulled out his left lung. He placed it down the spine of the “wings,” then went back in for the right.

Alec choked, first just the barest cough. He felt like he was part of some twisted nature video, where he was duped into experiencing the pure focus and brutality of a hyena’s hunt—then out came something else from the bush: bigger, meaner, with a damn bloodier bite.

Goth took the cuffs off Noah and lay him between Alec’s and Cane’s cages. Vomit choked from Alec’s mouth as warmth hit between his thighs, a loss of bladder he couldn’t control.

Ferg’s offer of death, that seemed so much more humane and bearable compared to… this.

A look came his way off Goth, and this time Alec tried to shake his head as he started to come over.

“Out.” Goth pulled the tray from beneath Alec’s jaw, and Alec choked vomit onto the floor. The collar at his throat loosened, and as the padlock was pulled free and the grate of his cage door hit the blood-steamed silence, Alec shook his head and tried to push back now the bit in his mouth came out. Heneededto stay in the safety of its confines as a tug came at his arm.

“Fucking out.” Goth grabbed his hair, forcing out a cry, then—

“No. God, no-no-no, please.” As Alec was dragged forwards, knees scuffed concrete and twice he crumpled to the floor. Twice Goth dragged him back up again, the last time holding him by a grip to his hair.

“Well go on.” The warmth of Goth’s breath brushed Alec’s cheek as he spoke. Cherry. The man had eaten something sweet, cherry… like Tic Tacs. Recent. Like he’d stood back in the shadows and taken a few as he watched. “Get your mate and fuck off.”

A shove pushed him over to Cane, and Alec stumbled again, landing heavily. As he stayed down, a kick came to his side, and he cried out, hiding in himself a little more.

“I said get the fuck out. Stop making yourself the bloody victim.”

Alec’s look rested on Cane—then he was suddenly moving, crawling between Noah and Ferg to get at Cane. His grip on the speculum was slippery with the blood he’d crawled through, but he pulled it free from Cane’s eye and quickly fumbled for the lock that would release the hold on his jaw.

“Run.” Cane choked that out after barking out rough coughs now Alec had tugged the bit from his mouth. “Not….” He couldn’t finish it, but his look on Noah said it all. They weren’t going to get out of this. Games… the bastard was letting them go, then he’d come after them. “Fucking get out of here, baby.”

“Christ.” Goth came over, his pull on Cane’s collar brutal. He kept the leash wrapped around a fist already coated with lace, then undid Cane’s hands with the other as Alec cowered out of his way. Then, like a master forcing a dog out to walk, Goth fed the leash through the front of the cage after he opened it and dragged Cane out.

Cane’s fight-and-flight instinct mirrored Alec’s, and he pulled against the leash to get back into the cage, but Goth grabbed him up by the collar and brought him to his feet, nose-to-nose close.

“Love the look, mate, but you’re really not my kind of toys.” He ran the back of his hand over Cane’s cheek. “But in about an hour, the birds who are? Their friends? They’re gonna come looking for them, and you will be theirs. You hear what I’m saying? Now, you can run, or you can stay around as well and see how many birds get their wings clipped tonight, including yours, because, seriously—nothing pisses me off more than your level of fucking stupid-ass victims not taking the door when it’s opened.”

Cane skidded by Noah when Goth pushed him away.

“Fucking go.”

Goth’s brutal shout echoed in the tunnel, jolting Cane into action, and he scrambled over by Alec, his rough tug pulling Alec up… away.

“Try not to fall down on the way out, okay?” A sniff came as Goth dragged Ferg over the cage that had held Alec. A knee went to Ferg’s back, the rip of cloth came across his shoulders, and a drift of the back of a hand went down his bare back…. “I really,reallycan’t stomach thecome get me,ass-in-the-air calls these kinds of stupid birds fall for.”

Tripping over or not along the way, Alec refused to stay around and witness any more as he pulled Cane away. He really, really couldn’t stomach being a stupid,come get mebird that kept calling out for more rape either, because routine…. Alec bit back a cry as it hit home. Their own stupid-ass routine had been the calling card that got them penned like pigs for fucking in a cage. He victim-blamed, somewhere that registered, but a point was being made here for a reason, and like fuck did Alec swallow every ounce of warning behind it.

Chapter 8

Past Aggression

The burn in Gray’s thighs cut in a little more as he took the dirt path off to his right, deep into the woodland.Heavy mist surrounding the manor grounds gave the Tuesday morning sun a grim, sedate quality, dulling its attempt at light and making his run outside the grounds more isolated as fog most times won out. It darkened the woods running parallel to the perimeter fence and left the trees he ran through yawning into the struggle over night-time giving way to morning, the tree bows barely stirring and waking the life amongst them with the thick blanket of mist snaking its trunks and hushing it back to sleep.

He kept his run hard, away from any pathways, the ruffle and break of bracken lost to the burn of breaking through the fog of what lay ahead. Life was swallowed up behind him as he passed through, but despite the isolation and loss of seeing where wild land ended and life began, he was used to the mist.

It was coming out of it that had fought against his reach at times.

A tracksuit kept away the bitter chill biting into the morning, but its hood shielded Gray against the dampness that always played with the mist and how it wanted to play lover with the sweat already dampening his body.

Despite his hard pelt of run through wood, the calmer acoustic version of “Where the Shadow Ends” haunted his Bluetooth headphones. Ed had seen it handed to him on his death, and the hurt over listening to it had eventually eased when it came to Gray’s morning runs, mostly because it spoke of Ed. It spoke of home, however lost in the mist home stayed at times.

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