Page 29

“We’re coming out.” Adrien’s voice is soft, though I can hear the displeasure in it. He steps out from behind the carnival game he’d been behind, past the midway, to stand at the man’s side when he gestures for him to do so.

"You too.” The ghostface mask turns to where Ansel slinks out a moment later, and even behind the mask, I can feel the worried frustration seething from his skin. “What the fuck are you two doing here?” The gun never wavers from me, and it occurs to me that he’s clocked the three of them aren’t here to kill me.

Though by some luck, he thinks it’s only the two of them. However Ronan has gone unnoticed, I’m grateful as hell. My ear burns and I reach up to press my fingers to where blood wells, trying to decide if I’m impressed by the man’s aim or worried he wasn’t trying to hit me at all.

“What do you want?” he demands of the two of them. “You’ve been following her for at least five minutes now. Do you know her?”

It’s Adrien that speaks. He gives a low, rolling chuckle and slowly sticks his hands in his pockets to stand much more relaxed. “Know her? Please.” There’s a bored edge to his voice that puts me on edge, but I trust that he knows what he’s doing.

“Sort of crashed this party last minute. Didn’t have money for the buy in fee this year.” there’s something slimy and scummy in Adrien’s voice, and I almost believe it. It isn’t like he’s done anything to gain my trust, and I don’t know him like I know the others.

But still.

He could’ve killed me if he wanted to. Way before this. I don’t move much, only breathing nervously as I watch their conversation with my heart stuttering.

“Thought I’d just come scare some of your participants,” Adrien goes on. “Thought he’d like to as well.” He gestures at Ansel, who cocks his head behind the mask. “He’s into that sort of shit. Didn’t know you were so against sharing.” God, I can practically feel his slimy smile behind the mask, and it makes me shudder even though I know–I hope–this is all an act.

Ghostface mask stares at them for a minute, his gun still trained on me. “Fine,” he allows finally. “Then you can watch. No audience participation, though. Not until after he’s done. Then maybe we’ll let you fuck with the body.”

“Hi, hello, I’m standing right here. Did you forget?” I can’t help asking as I try to remind myself all is not lost. I have a knife, and Ronan is around somewhere. Though the existence of a gun is certainly putting doubts in my head.

I really don’t want to die.

“And here I thought Benji made a law about guns for the first night of the hunt,” Adrien remarks conversationally as Short and Shitty rounds on me again. I stumble back a few steps, until my knees hit the side of the carousel, and I’m forced to hold my ground unless I want to be spun around.

Which, now that I think about it, might not be the worst idea.

“Call it insurance,” The taller, leaner man shrugs. “What Benji doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him. Besides, it’s not to take away from the fun. Just you know. To keep the fun in line.” His gun dips and as his friend suddenly lunges towards me, I hop up onto the carousel, stumbling backward onto the slowly spinning background.

“Stupid bitch,” Short and Shitty snarls, struggling to haul himself up as well. “Fuck, Cletus could you–”

“Cletus?” There isn’t enough of a survival instinct in me to stop me from saying the name out loud. An indignant grin curves over my lips and I glare between them. “No. You’re telling me I’m about to get offed thanks in part to a man named Cletus? I refuse, your honor. I demand a mistrial–”

The gun goes off again and I gasp as a bullet grazes my arm, just enough to tear through my hoodie and scrape through a few layers of flesh.

Fuck that hurts. Just as much the second time as the first, though a subtle numbness spreads from the wound, causing my hand to tremble. “Oh fuck that hurts,” I whisper, slamming back into one of the horses. The carousel turns, taking me away from Cletus and his gun, only for Short and Shitty to follow me around with his mask still on. He snarls and thrusts himself between a seat and a horse, almost losing his balance from the smooth motion of the carousel alone. My eyes turn to Cletus when I come around again, finding the gun still trained on me.

Fuck, I can’t help but think to myself. He’s making this harder than it needs to be. When the shorter man lunges for me, nearly falling again, I let myself stumble back. Further than I need to, I keep going, drawing him across the distance to me.

“Come back. You stupid fucking bitch. I’m going to gut you,” he snarls, sounding like he’s spitting under the mask.

Before I can stop myself, I take another step back, hoping and praying I don’t fuck this up, and let myself fall to the ground.

I hit hard on my ass and elbows, my hands grinding on loose wood that makes me bite my lip in pain. But my plan pays off a second later, when the man comes with me, though his movement is more obviously purposeful. He jumps down, still off balance when he lands, and once he closes in on me, I make my move.

After all, now we’re blocked from Cletus and his gun.

Just as my would-be killer leans down, I lurch upward. Somehow, I manage to unsheathe the knife at my back without stabbing myself, and I drive it into his belly, causing him to go down, though not without a cry.

“Jonah?” Cletus’s voice cracks like a whip. “Get the fuck up, Jonah, and-” The gun goes off again, and Cletus snaps a curse. “Get the fuck off of me you–”

I don’t hear the rest. I can’t when Jonah throws me hard back into the carousel platform, my ears ringing as my head ricochets off the metal.

“You bitch,” he snarls as he staggers to his feet. Even though the knife is now useless to me on the ground between us, I can still see where blood bubbles up from the wound in his stomach. He cups it with both hands, making small, jerky motions like he’s trying to shove the blood back into him. “You–you fucking stabbed me!” His voice goes higher, becoming closer to a whine, and with a quick, graceless movement, he kicks the knife away before I can even consider making a move for it.

“Yeah,” I agree, struggling to sit up even as my head echoes with the sound of the metal I’d been thrown into. “Hurts like a bitch doesn’t it? You know, I think you’re gonna die.”

Jonah barely hesitates. Without warning he throws off the mask, and I see his face twist into something ugly, terrified, and violent. “Then I’ll take you with me!” he spits hard, drawing the knife from his own belt. “You stupid, filthy, piece of–”