Page 51 of Lucky 14

I laughed watching Fourteen nail Oakley in the face with a rock. I laughed again when she punched him in the eye. He took it like a little pussy, too, acting like it came out of nowhere.

Fuck. My dick twitches in my pants as I press the pedal of the golf cart down. Oakley is puking into the sand.

For a minute, I envision the golf cart hitting Oakley at full speed. His internal organs would take a punch, hitting the other side of his abdominal wall, but he’s big enough that I’d probably go sailing through the windshield.

At the last minute, I swerve around him, grumbling. Fourteen is my priority at the moment. I run the cart along the beach before abandoning it and heading into the woods on foot. My heart races as I rip my mask off and tuck it into my back pocket, the bushes and trees whipping past me. This part of the forest is alive, lush, and untouched by the fire.

I could track Fourteen using the GPS, but the thrill of knowing she’s out here, running from Oakley, not knowing I’m the one chasing her, breathes life back into my soul. I picture spotting her through a gap in the trees, her terrified scream as she realizes who’s after her, and fuck, if my dick isn’t coming to life again.

If there’s anything I’ve learned in life, it’s that life is cruel. It’ll eat you up and spit you out. And you’d better make sure you’re the one chasing, not the one running.

The area has a natural dip down to one of the smaller streams, and I follow it, knowing Fourteen is running on fumes. A normal adrenaline drop would give her maybe an hour, but with her current state? I’m guessing fifteen minutes max.

Every flash of movement in the trees heightens my senses. There’s a buzzing that starts in my fingertips, tingling up my arms. Crushed vegetation and the smell of mud and water fill my senses.

A flashback hits me of the creek beside my childhood home. Of running through it on Christmas day, my brothers hot on my heels.

Shaking my head, I catch a glimpse of something ahead. It’s a gash in the mud with a clear footprint at the end. A small footprint.

Grinning, I look toward where it’s headed. Sure enough, across the stream, there are more scrambles in the mud.

Following the tracks, I see more and more disruptions. There's a small flurry of movement up to my left, and a figure darts away.

I race after her, every sense singing.

There’s something so special about fear. About that moment where the other person knows you have them. That you could do anything you want, and they’re at your mercy. There’s a look in people’s eyes. Fuck, it’s even in the way they smell. I open my mouth to see if I can catch that sour smell of fear. And for a second, I think I do, only it’s from me. My shirt is soaked through, and I’m…crying?

Slowing my pace, I look down at myself. The fabric over my chest is dry, and instead of mud and dead grass, I’m in a lush rainforest.

Up ahead, I spot movement. It’s Fourteen. She’s up against a tree, heaving, with a steep drop off to the creek beside her and rocks blocking the other side.

I’ve caught the little creature. I laugh, the adrenaline singing through my system.

Fourteen whirls, leveling fiery, angry eyes my way. For a second, they widen in surprise, probably expecting me to be Oakley.

My lips curl. I’m better than Oakley.

Fourteen’s blue eyes dart around, taking me in, and I can’t help but straighten, reveling in the moment. This is, without a doubt, the best part of every hunt. When the hunted knows I’ve bested them.

I expect her to cower. For that animalistic fear to glaze her pretty eyes.

Only, she doesn’t. She heaves in breath after breath, gaze darting around, looking for the escape that doesn’t exist. Then slowly, she straightens, locking gazes with me, head on, and bares her teeth at me.

And for a split second, a foreign feeling hits me so hard in the chest I freeze. It feels like…cold, unfamiliar tension. Almost like…fear?

I blink.

No, it can’t be. I don’t feel fear. That’s what my prey feels, not me.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the feeling. It only grips me harder, trailing its icy grip down my chest with an unfamiliar touch. The grip is tight, making my breath shallow.

Slowly, I try to get my breathing under control. But still, the memory that’s been trying to break free hits me with the force of a car. Suddenly, I’m fourteen again and standing in the freezing creek. My brothers are here, grinning at me.

“Not so fast, are we, little man?”

“Fuck off.” I’m breathing so hard I taste blood. My brothers usually give up by the end of the back pasture. But today they’ve broken into Dad’s stash, and it shows. Their pupils are huge, and they’re twitching again.

My feet are already numb, and I know I can’t keep running. They’ve caught up to me. At least if I stand here, maybe they won’t want to get in the freezing water.