Page 192 of Split You Open

My feet make hardly any noise as I make my way closer to the house. The truck is parked as close as I could get it without drawing attention to it but that was still two miles away. Making the trek to the house through the woods is swift but unfortunately time consuming.

It’s been over twelve hours since Blair was taken.

Anything could’ve happened to her in that time.

My chest tightens and my body warms as rage wells up. Insanity follows right behind it.

No one touches my goddaughter and lives to see another day. Blood will rain down on the small town of Caddawalk by the time I’m done here. My hands tremble as adrenaline spikes through me.

It’s that little motion that jerks me out of the murderous impulse beating at me.

I can’t lose my cool, not now. It’ll only make me sloppy and result in my own death before I make it to Blair.

Sucking in a deep breath, I push it all down until I can hardly feel a damn thing. Numbness is a blessing. It’s what I need to cling to if I want to make it to Blair and get us both out alive. Anchor’s better at turning emotions off—but when I need to, I can be just as empty as my best friend.

Creeping through the woods, my gun at the ready and my head on a constant swivel, I know I’m getting close to the house. I stay far away from the driveway leading toward the building, knowing that there are probably sentries hidden in the shadows to stop anyone from barreling down it.

As I approach, I catch sight of the first one. He’s leaning against a tree just out of sight of the driveway, watching it as he hums quietly to himself.

I could leave him and continue on. He hasn’t seen or heard me.

But I don’t.

I’ll feed the trees in these woods the blood of all the men who took my woman from me—starting with this motherfucker.

Pulling my blade from my boot, I creep up behind him. He doesn’t see his death coming. My blade slices across his throat as smoothly as a warm knife through butter as I slap my other hand over his mouth to keep his gargled cries down. He slides to the ground and goes limp.

The minute he’s dead, I’m on the move again.

I make it another few yards before I run into the next two guards. They’re chatting loudly, talking about some football game taking place tomorrow. The bets they made will never come to fruition. The first one gets stabbed in the side of his neck from behind. The other man’s eyes widen, realizing what he’s witnessing and reacting far too late.

By the time his hand reaches for his gun, he’s a dead man. My knife goes flying and lodges in the back of his throat through his gaping mouth. As he collapses, I collect my knife and continue onward.

A few steps more and I hear chaos whip through the trees.

The screams start first.

Those screams weave through the trees like the autumn breeze. They’re filled with pure, unadulterated agony and I love it. It’s music to my ears and inspires me. My next three kills are made purely with the intent to make it hurt and to match the sounds Rhett and Santi are creating somewhere in the distance.

A few minutes later come the sounds of gunfire. It’s rapid and erratic.

Someone’s shouting orders but I don’t think there’s a damn person in these woods following them if the screams and directionless gunshots are anything to go by.

I smile.

It grows wider when a grenade goes off.

Static comes in over my walkie-talkie and Rhett’s voice comes over the airwaves. “Santi got too excited.”

“Shit, did he cum? Right now?” Wes asks exasperated. “That man needs a plug.”

“What? No! I meant he prematurely used the grenade⁠—”

Rhett’s cut off as Santi’s laughter spills over the feed. “I did a little. Pulling the pin on that thing was thrilling.”

More gunfire erupts and conversation over the walkie-talkies dies. Reaching down, I turn off the walkie as I scan the house. I’m too close to get caught now.

The house is nothing grand. According to some online research it’s a three-bedroom, two-bath house—no basement or second floor. The siding needs to be redone, there’s a bird’s nest sitting on top of the chimney and most of the shutters are either gone or hanging on by a thread. According to public records the owner just recently let it go to foreclosure. That means, this place is empty. Or rather, it should be empty.