Page 75 of Make Me Hunt
I can still hear voices and the sounds of fighting in the adjacent corridors, but I decide not to follow them for now, since I am starting to hear noises on the floors below again. Ares could be anywhere.
There are twenty-seven of us left, which tells me most of the people who died here were part of the staff. Can’t say I’m sorry. If anything, I feel a little peace every time I pass a corpse and recognize someone who hurt me. It melts a storm that’s been brewing inside of me for years. I’ve been postponing coming after these people for too long. And if I’d known their deaths would bring me peace so fast, I’d have burned the fucking place down long ago.
Suddenly, I hear the distant sound of metal moving against metal. It’s not someone fighting, more like metal plates shifting, followed by a scraping sound.
Armor.
Ares.
I don’t hesitate. I follow the sound into the other side of the corridor. Two people dressed in white spot us, watching our every move without saying a single word. They look more entertained than the last ones, probably because they’ve just been in the middle of the action.
I wish I could kill them both, but that would be suicide.
I’ve almost reached the end of the corridor, the scraping sound sounds like it’s moving up the other staircase. He’s ahead of me, and I suspect he’ll reach the next floor within seconds.
“Find a place and hide,” I turn to the woman, gesturing for her to go into any of the rooms.
I don’t look back to see what she’s doing. I’m not her nanny. My target is clear, and he just hit the next floor. I nearly run after him, ignoring the screams, roars, and clashing metal. It’s like I’ve already grown used to them by now.
My bracelet lights up with numbers one and three, same as the speakers, which means there are only two red guys left.
I make it to the top of the stairs, and Ares is less than forty feet in front of me. His sword swings left and right, but he doesn’t seem like he’s aiming to kill anyone in particular. Instead, he’s throwing open doors like he’s hunting for something, or someone.
I want to go after him, but there’s suddenly a cry behind me. And out of the corner of my eye, I catch a man dragging Gina into a room.
For fuck’s sake, how did I get roped into this?
I take a second, trying to decide if I should go after Ares or rescue her.
Fuck me for having a conscience.
Gripping my sword, I charge into the room. The man is on top of Gina already, and pulling out a dagger.
I jump on his back. A move that worked out perfectly for me—until now. I don’t get to draw my sword before he rises to his feet and throws himself backward, slamming me to the floor.
I’m starting to see black behind my eyes, maybe even a shade of green. I try to refocus, especially since I don’t feel the sword in my hand anymore, but I do feel him turning toward me. I’m still trying to regain focus. Everything around me shakes like a busted TV signal while I’m still fighting to get my bearings.
Luckily, before I lose all my faculties, I notice his dagger coming straight for my chest. A surge of unknown strength rushes through me—panic, adrenaline, maybe both.
I manage to roll right, but his arm stops me short.
His dagger slams into the floor and sticks there. I can see him struggling to pull it free, but my sword is too far away.
I panic, thinking of a way out. My body is trapped beneath his, and I don’t have any options. Then the air goes thin, and I see his dagger coming for my head. I roll again, and everything is happening with the speed of light as I reach for the B52 shot and jam it into his chest.
He drops. The shot knocks him out cold instantly, but I don’t get to decide if I should finish him off.
Before I get to take action, I see Gina taking his dagger and slitting his throat.
I look straight at her as her bracelet lights up: 500k.
Blood drips across the number as she drops onto her ass. She’s got a nasty slash across her chest and arm. Nothing to die from. Worst-case scenario, she’ll need new implants. But that’s not what bothers me. I’m trying to figure out if she killed him in the heat of the moment because he hurt her, or if she was just claiming the money for herself.
I don’t care about the money, but if she was trying to claim the money while I was trying to save her life, then she can’t be trusted. And we’ve got a problem.
She gasps in pain, and I hate that I feel responsible for it. She followed me, and that got her hurt. Still, I told her not to follow me, so that buys me a little less guilt.
I ease her against the wall and take the bandage from my pocket, wrapping it tightly around her arm and chest. She flinches, barely keeping herself from crying out in pain. But she knows exactly what a noise could mean.
