Page 48 of His Brutal Game
I slit the man’s throat, letting the blood pool on my father’s floor. Forrest peered down at his rival. A grin spread across Forrest’s lips.
He had made it clear where I had stood as a child, but now I was showing him how far I had come. I was better than him.
Forrest opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say another word, I exited the room, driving the SUV through the property, finding the main road. Though I had never formally agreed to it, I planned on keeping Maisie’s request.
The lights were on in the motel room, the curtain shades glowing. I knocked. Footsteps tapped behind the door, but nothing opened.
“What do you want?” Bambi asked, her voice muffled by the barrier.
I pulled out my wallet, hoping that she could see me through the peephole. Finally, the door cracked open, the door guard’s chain hanging down, holding it together. I offered her all the money that I had. She took the money, then glared at me, eyeing the blood on my clothes. A man was lying on the bed behind her, watching television. There was a chance that Bambi had been helping her pimp steal from the farm. There was even a good chance that she had disrespected us, but that didn’t matter. Neither did the money they stole. Only murder mattered.
And Maisie.
“What do you want?” Bambi repeated. She wrinkled her nose. I glared at the man one more time, his eyes glued to the screen, his posture relaxed. He wasn’t a threat to her.
I headed back to the car.
“Hey!” Bambi said. “Wait—”
By the time I was reversing out of my spot, Bambi’s door was completely open. She gawked at me as I drove off. I couldn’t let myself think about it. I had done what Maisie had asked; that was all it was.
Forrest stood in the parking area when I arrived. I slammed on my brakes, almost hitting him.
“You gave me no time to congratulate you,” he said.
I grunted, then headed toward the Calving Barn. I wanted to get home to see Maisie, but I didn’t want my father around when I did. I didn’t want him to know anything about us. I saw the new hay bales in a stack by the office door. I moved the tractor out of the way. Forrest followed behind me.
“Congratulations on the second kill,” he said, his tone stiff. “You’ll get your final kill soon.”
“Looking forward to it,” I said. I kept working.
“Are you ready for the Offering to prove your loyalty to the family?” Forrest put a hand on my shoulder. “You know what I had to give up to make sure that our family’s business prospered.”
My mother.
But if I won the farm, then I wasn’t going to do anything to let Maisie out of my hands.
Was I ready for the Offering? To take it down, to show Forrest exactly what I thought of our family’s rituals?
“Yes,” I said.
Another wide-spreading grin filled his face. He rambled about Sawyer’s progress, how we were both on our final kills, and how that meant that we would compete for our last kills at the same time. And that thrilled Forrest. I tuned him out. I had done my part, and when the time came to take the last person, I would do what needed to be done.
Once Forrest left the barn, I immediately dismissed my crew and headed to the house. The couch where I usually found Maisie was empty. I went to our bedroom—she wasn’t there either.
She emerged from her old bedroom wearing one of my flannel shirts, unbuttoned, loose on her frame, the fabric brushing against her nipples. Her lips were dark, her cheeks flushed. With her hands clasped behind her, she arched her back, pushing her breasts forward. I licked my lips.
“Bear with me,” she said. My brows twitched and she smiled. “Don’t hate me for this, okay?”
She took her hands out from behind her back: a pair of handcuffs hung from her finger, the metal chain gleaming in the light.
“Hear me out,” she said. She stepped closer, dragging a hand along my chest. “You’re afraid of losing control with me, right?” She tilted her head, then pointed into her old room. A metal folding chair rested in front of the bed. She had been planning this, then. “I could handcuff you. Then I would be in control. You wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”
My lips turned up.
She wanted to be in control of a beast.
“They’re handcuffs,” she continued. “There’s no way you’re getting out of locking metal.”
