Page 72 of Darling Wildfire
He stepped to the fire and pulled out a burning iron from the coals.
“These men are your teammates. There will be three to four other squads of seven in the game—they are your opponents.”
Vetticus came over to the first man in line and two of his men came up and held him still. He pushed the brand into the man’s chest below his collarbone. Besides the hiss of his breath as the pain overwhelmed him, he didn’t move or make a sound. Vetticus removed the brand and went back to the fire.
“Your objective is to capture the target and bring it back to your safe zone, or DZ, before the time expires—or be the last team standing.”
He grabbed another brand and repeated the action with the next man in line.
“The games are televised to select individuals who can place bets on you, your team and other factors associated with the games. Each map is different—the bullets are real—if you die, I replace you. Winners get rewarded—losers get punished.”
Vetticus let his eyes settle on me when he said the last part and Isuppressed a shiver at the look that passed across his face. He didn’t say what the punishment was, but based on the sadistic shit he’d demonstrated already, I didn’t want to find out.
“The games will occur every few months to allow for adequate recovery time should any injuries occur.”
I tensed when he got to Nyx, watching out of the corner of my eye as the brand was pushed against his skin. Next was Atlas. Sweat glistened on his chest and he was glaring murderously at Vetticus but he didn’t make a sound.
Then it was my turn.
Vetticus’ eyes turned sharp and his mouth twisted cruelly. He pressed the brand into my skin and the pain was nearly all-consuming. I fought through it and when he pulled it away, sweat was rolling down my body. He grabbed my chin roughly and leaned close to me although he spoke loudly to address all of us.
“You are nothing but a soldier—a player one—a pawn,” he growled. “And you are going to make me a lot of money.”
Vetticus stared into my eyes as I glared back at him, feeling nothing but a hatred that burned as painfully as the “V” he’d just branded into my chest. He patted my cheek harshly and walked back over to the fire, carelessly tossing the iron back into the flames he turned to us again.
“Each of you may choose your call sign for the games.”
Vetticus pointed to each of us and we went down the line giving him a name.
Vyper. Colt. Dutch. Preacher. Reaper. Phantom.
I thought about using my old call sign but when it was my turn, that’s not the name that came out.
“Kraven,” I said.
Kraven the Hunter—a Spiderman antihero. He was a big game hunter who hunted people for sport and was known for calling Spiderman “the most dangerous game.”
My heart hurt at the thought of why that name had popped into my head. Cole had loved Spiderman. We’d read all the comics, even though Whit didn’t like me to because they were surprisingly violent and dark. It had become a cherished secret between Cole and I.
I pushed the memory of Cole away. Until Vetticus was cold and dead six feet under, Kraven would be synonymous with determination and unyielding strength fed by a lust for vengeance achieved by any means possible, even at the sake of my own morality.
“Bring me a victory. I’ll accept nothing less,” Vetticus said. His voice cut through my thoughts and brought me back from my mind running wild withplans of his demise. “Good luck.”
He gave us one final look before leaving the room. I looked over at Atlas and Nyx, then down at the V on my chest, bright and inflamed.
Game on.
36
NYX
Well, that had been quite the pep talk. The brand hurt like a bitch but I tried to ignore it as we were led out the door and back up the stairs. We remained cuffed but instead of going back to our cells, we were directed to a different door that led out to a waiting cargo van. We got into the back and the door shut behind us, throwing us into blackness.
We drove for several hours. I tried to follow the twists and turns but it became too much after the first hour. By the third hour, the road turned into a relatively well kept dirt road. We slowed down, going at a moderate albeit bumpy speed. No one spoke. There wasn’t anything to say. We were cuffed. We had those damn trackers in us and we had no clue where we were or where we were going. Trying to plan anything would have been suicide and I think we all realized it.
When the van finally stopped, the doors opened and cold air blew through the back sending a shiver through my body. I was one of the last to hop down and what I saw took my breath away as efficiently as the cold air against my bare chest. We were somewhere in heavily forested mountains.
Off in the distance sat a tall, modern mansion. Most of it consisted of floor to ceiling windows across all three stories. Where it wasn’t windows, it was dark metal and black concrete. Modern and sinister, it sat on its perch overlooking a vast forest as far as the eye could see. Isolation at its finest.
