Page 60 of His Brutal Game
The ranchers rolled the cart between the equipment. The Feldman Farm carried on as usual. I screamed, but no one acknowledged me. I tried to search for Wilder, but there were only the other ranchers. Where was he?
The cart stopped behind the Calving Barn. I looked around, trying to figure out how to get out of the cage, if there was any escape. Light brown hair caught my eye. Those big round eyes. A woman crouched in a similar cage next to me, a gag in her mouth, her face streaked with makeup. Bambi.
Where was Wilder?
CHAPTER 22
Wilder
I shoved the small body into the garbage bag, leaving it intact. I couldn’t chop up this corpse yet; I needed it whole for now. It was heavier than you’d expect. The hairs on the back of my neck lifted. The person was the same size as Maisie. This was how it had to be.
The livestock order was already dead, decapitated, and chopped into several pieces. But his girlfriend? I needed her whole until we got to the Dairy Barn. I had jumped at this order, knowing that the livestock’s live-in girlfriend looked like Maisie. It was typical to take care of a livestock order’s significant others when they got in the way, but this was personal. I had to clean up alone. None of the hunters or ranchers could know what I was doing with the woman’s corpse.
My mind had rolled through the motions, barely able to enjoy the actual kill. And now, on the way back to the farm, my mind was still trapped under Maisie. I should have shipped her on a one-way plane ticket, so she’d be as far away from me as possible. Instead, I had acted on impulse. And that never got me far.
Now I had to cover up what was left, to buy her some time.
In the barn, I emptied the garbage bag contents into the incinerator, the guts sloshing as they hit the metal container. Then I took the whole corpse, laying the body out on the cement. Her blond hair streaked with red, her body tinged purple and blue. With enough blood and dismemberment, she would become Maisie. She even had the same chipped white nail polish. The same dark lips. No one would be able to tell the difference.
I’ve got something for you,I sent Forrest.
Taking the cleaver, I chopped the woman’s limbs into pieces, letting the thick blood leak onto the floor. Then I stabbed her face until she was pulp and bone, mutilated beyond recognition. Enough blood to make Forrest believe who she was. It unnerved me. It should have been Maisie. But I was glad it wasn’t.
I was glad. She had a chance.
The barn doors slid open. Forrest entered the barn, finding the metal chair next to the basin. I wiped off the cleaver, setting it down on a wooden table. Then I wiped my hands on my clothes as I walked to him.
“You have something for me?” Forrest asked.
I gestured toward the corpse in the corner, the remains of the Maisie look-alike. Forrest whistled down at her, taking in the blood. The chunks of flesh. The flattened skull.
“Quite the show you put on,” he said.
It was the Feldman Offering. He had made a spectacle of my mother’s death too. He expected a display. Like my brother with his woman’s burned corpse.
“All you have left now is your last kill, and the business is yours,” Forrest said. I nodded, though I had no plans to kill Sawyer. I wasn’t sure how I was going to convince Sawyer to drop the Trial, but I would figure out a way. At least he would think Maisie was dead now. He’d have to get a new final name from Forrest. “You’re so close. Why don’t you kill him?”
My eyes flicked to the ground. Maisie’s sister had died in an accident, and yet shestillblamed herself, even if she logically understood that it wasn’t her fault. I remembered what that was like. And if Sawyer died, I would have a part in it. It didn’t matter how much we didn’t like each other. I respected him, and he respected me.
I wasn’t going to kill him.
“In time,” I said.
Forrest angled himself against the side of the barn. “You’re not as distraught as I had expected,” he said. “Seeing as how you two were getting along.”
I wrinkled my brow. “What do you mean?”
He laughed, reading my confusion. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know. You had fallen in love with her. You can’t deny it,” he said. “I figured you’d be crying like a little bitch, like Sawyer.”
This was different. I was never supposed to be attached to Maisie.
But Forrest was right. I had fallen for her.
Hell, I knew I loved her. That was why I kept acting on impulse, trying to save her in the only way I knew how. Because she was better than me. Everyone died, but she didn’t deserve to come to that end. Not yet.
“I followed your teachings,” I said.
But I had to stop lying to myself. Maisie mattered to me. That was the only way to explain why I was covering up her escape.
