Page 39 of Lucky 14

Tonight is going just as predictably as every other first night in the game. And I hate it. It makes me want to beat my head against the wall just to feel something.

It’s almost midnight, and some trackers are frozen on the map. The players are either dead or hiding. I stare at them in the darkness of my computer room. I have a room in the hotel—I like staying close to put out any fires that may start before they get too bad—but I like to watch everyone on the big screen of my computer on the first night. Like to figure out their patterns, who is teaming up with whom, and who dies first.

I watch the light green circles that represent the players. The ones that are still moving will probably last the longest. I’m not sure if that’s because they have overall better fitness, because they get themselves a solid home base, or a little bit of both, but it’s usually how things go.

My stomach rumbles. I missed dinner. It was grilled cheese night, and if you get there soon enough, the bread still has a caramelized crunch. My mouth waters.

I blink at the screen. The trackers take about thirty seconds to update, and I wait for what feels like an eternity. When the screen refreshes, some of them move a minuscule amount. Twenty-three has made it to the west side of the island along the beach. I wait in the silence for some of them to move again, then shove the screen away from me, a dull feeling filling my chest. It’s just all so…predictable at this point. This game used to make me happy. Used to fill my veins with adrenaline.

My stomach rumbles again.

Maybe I should switch night one to quesadilla night with shredded beef. Shake things up a bit. You know. Get crazy.

No chicken, though. Chicken is fucking disgusting.

God. This is unbearable. Running my fingers through my top knot, I scratch at my scalp. What the fuck happened to me? Am I this boring now? Getting excited about quesadillas?

I wish I brought someone to take my mind off things. But I can’t do that. I never bring my own fucktoys to the island. What I like in the bedroom is private, and there’s not much on this island that’s private.

I glare at the wall. I need a distraction. If not a woman, surely someone won’t return to the villa by midnight. Those are the rules. I don’t enforce them because I like the rules, but because I get an adrenaline rush from bringing order back with my fists.

At the thought, I feel a tiny corner of my chest come back to life. Yes, the player hunting twenty-three has been a little shit. Tried to sneak out before six, although one of my men caught him on the cameras and dragged him back before I could get my hands on him. He’ll definitely give me something to play with tonight.

Picking myself up, I check the security cameras, and immediately, my mood falls. The player hunting twenty-three already came back to his room.

What a pussy ass bitch.

I stare at my door, feeling that numbness creep over me. It wraps me in its embrace, making everything around me feel fuzzy.

I hate this feeling. It doesn’t feel like me.

Shaking myself, I rip my door open, stalking into the night. Something exciting is going to happen, or I’ll make it happen. I should have brought a pussy to fuck with. I never thought I’d need it, though. This has always been enough.

When I get to the villa, I yank my mask on and stalk down the hunter’s hall, checking on the players. They’re all here. My frustration mounts, and my skin gets hot as I check them all off my list.

Well, all except three of them. Two hunters, one woman. Manson, Riley, and their girl.

My breathing picks up, and I rip the main doors to the patio open. And there I find all three missing players standing at the railing. I begin to storm up to them, and then I realize what they’re looking at.

My steps stutter to a stop.

The forest is on fire.

The orange glow reflects up into the dark sky, where billows of grey smoke curl upward. The fire is a ways out from the building, curling into the first dip in the trees and only about twenty feet wide. For now.

For a second, I just stare. A million thoughts race in my head. How is the forest on fire? It’s so wet here, we’ve never had an issue even with unattended campfires from the prey.

The smoke billows and trees pop.

Did the prey start it? Do I have any accelerants?

“Pretty, huh?” Riley is staring at me, a half mask over her face. Manson also turns, also masked. He steps between his women and me. As if he can sense the danger being a woman puts you in here. As if he’d be able to stop me if I wanted to do anything to her.

“What’s all this?” I motion at the fire, looking them up and down. They don’t look even the least bit concerned. Riley almost looks…amused.

It’s not lost on me that they’re the only ones out here, and now my playground is burning.

“A fire.” Riley sounds like she’s smirking. Which means this shit probably set it.