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I quickened my pace, closing the gap between Reaper and myself just in time for a battle cry from the door beside us. Chaos descended as men and women clad in shades of obsidian and smoke, their faces smudged with charcoal, charged straight for us. Standing between them and Reaper with no more than half a second to respond and defend myself, I faced another inevitable catastrophe.
On instinct, I let out a primal screech, ringing through the dark corridor like nails on a chalkboard. Before I could think or even empty the lungful of air, I was yanked violently to the floor, my body crashing down with a sickening thud, the breath knocked out of me. Rough wooden boards pressed against my cheek, scraping my skin as I struggled to regain my bearings.
Cruel hands seized me, savagely jerking my arms behind my back and holding them together with a merciless grip, reminding me just how helpless and vulnerable I was here and sending an intense wave of panic through my veins.
Above me, anarchy unfolded in a dizzying whirlwind of motion. The frenetic combat blurred into a cacophony of indistinguishable shapes and colors. The whacking of fists on flesh, the grunts of exertion, and the desperate shouts of whoever it was caught in the fray were all a chaotic mystery in that panicked moment.
A sharp sting to my scalp sent tears to my eyes.
I cried out in agony.
As my head wrenched up, a man whispered in my ear, freezing me in place with dread.
“Say goodbye, girly.” His breath was hot against my skin as the finality of the words crashed over me like a tidal wave.
The cold, sharp sensation digging into my neck was my last warning—the end was nigh.
My blood would spill here, and all my dreams would end.
Only in that moment did I realize how much hope I’d held onto.
That I had a future.
That I might find freedom one way or another.
That I could rid the world of Ivan.
But I didn’t get to confront him once.
“Hey asshole,” came a growl from above me and my assailant.
His hand, knife and all, thrust to the floor with a thud.
I was wrenched sideways, hitting my shoulder hard on the wall.
Gaping up at the commotion, I caught Reaper, his eyes glowing red, as he held my assailant down with a foot to his back. Reaper held out his hand, and the knife flew straight into his palm.
He grasped the man’s wrist, wrenching it backward at a sickening angle, eliciting a shriek from my would-be murderer.
“You’re a funny guy, aren’t you? Imagine thinking you were going to slit her throat. You did think that, didn’t you?” he growled so low I could barely make out the words.
“Fuck,” came the response.
“Didn’t you!?”
He let out a resigned groan. “Yeah, man, that’s the game.”
Reaper stilled for a beat, tilting his head like he hadn’t thought of that, then chuckled. “That it is. Eenie meenie miney moe! You picked the wrong year to come here!” He paused, looking thoughtful, thensmiled wide and added, “Now you know!” He looked up at me. “That was a rhyme within a rhyme, did you notice?”
I gave him a jerky nod and a tight grin. He was a fucking monster.
Looking thoroughly pleased with himself to have made the rhyme work, Reaper used the guy’s own knife to cut into his wrist. Agonizing screams pierced my eardrums. Blood spurted out from the gaping wound, speckling the walls and the floor. I recoiled from the trajectory of the flow as he begged for mercy.
I scrambled to my feet, pressing my back against the wall as he prayed for forgiveness. For pity. For help.
And finally, for a quicker death.
With a furrowed brow, Reaper grunted in the exertion of his task. “Man, you should have brought a better knife. This one wasn’t made for so much bone and cartilage.” He chuckled darkly, then, with a grin, he sighed in exaggerated contentment. “You know, I didn’t expect to be moved to such hedonism tonight. Thanks for that. I owe you one.”
