AllFreeNovel
Share Us
No sooner had the last person finished their meal than Sam gave us our orders.
"Dahlia, you will be the first to hunt. Please return to the weapons room, select an item, and then proceed to the front door. The exterior door will be open for you once you have exited the mansion."
Of course I would be the first to go. He’d planned this. It was probably why he’d given me the immunity card. If I had to guess, he’d anticipated that I would use it during the breakfast challenge, leaving me helpless to resist. I did not want to go out there. There was nothing in the world that sounded more terrifying than running around in the woods hunting a person. It was one thing to torture and butcher people while they were tied down and secure. How the hell was I going to fight them out in the open? Surely he hadn’t given them weapons, but depending on where we were, there could be rocks or sticks. Maybe bricks or some rebar? God only knew. I had a sneaking suspicion we were in the middle of nowhere, though. Where the hell could a building the size of this be hidden?
"Did you hear me, Dahlia?" Sam asked.
"Yes," I said through gritted teeth.
"Very well. Everyone else, you will receive your daily assignments via your cuffs. Enjoy."
The speakers went silent. Not wanting to anger Sam more than I already had, I stood. Drake grabbed my hand before I could take a step away from the table.
"Be careful."
A smile flashed across my lips. "I will. Are you okay?"
He patted his chest. "Yeah, all better. Don’t worry about me."
Before I became emotional, I departed, leaving the others behind. Ascending the steps felt strange this time. Earlier, in a group, there had been a bit of camaraderie. While most of my other housemates weren’t close friends, it was still nice to have others around when you were nervous. As I stepped into the weapons room, the implements of destruction and misery looked more threatening than they had an hour before.
I eyeballed the guns, but I’d never used one in my life. Nothing would be worse than to be fighting for my life while struggling to figure out how to fire the damned thing. The tasers and pepper spray were basically idiot proof, but not strong enough. In the end, I grabbed a knife. It was a wicked looking thing. A seven-inch blade and the hand had a built in knuckle guard that could be used for punching along with slicing and stabbing with the blade.
My weapon in hand, I went back down stairs. The dining room was empty, the others obviously sent off on their daily tasks. I climbed through the broken wall and found myself in the foyer again. I didn’t even have to ask for the door to be opened, it clicked and swung inward as soon as I drew near. Sam was watching. Obviously.
The hand holding the knife trembled ever so slightly. The more I thought about it, the more horrifying the prospect became. Who was I even hunting? Why? What had these people done? Pedophiles? Rapists? Murderers? I was not a physically intimidating person. If I’d had to go toe to toe with a man out here, even if I had a weapon, it would be over quickly. I imagined meeting Branson out there healthy and whole, before I’d ruined him. It had been easy to dismantle him while he’d been tied down. Out there? He’d have broken me. I forced back a gag as I thought of him wrestling me into submission and raping me again. No. I couldn’t go out there. No way. He wanted me dead. That’s exactly what this was. A sick fucking game that ended with me dying. There was no way I could go through with this. I had to think of something. Some way of getting out of this.
Yet, I took my first step out the door, pushed forward more by fear of what Sam would do than what the people outside the house would do. The devil you know is sometimes scarier than the one you don’t.
On the porch, I glanced around again at the faux outdoor scenery. The fake shrubs and trees, the swing, even the fake potted flowers on the steps. It all looked silly now. How had I ever thought this was real?
With my first step off the porch, I had the sudden and terrifying thought that whoever had been sent for me to hunt might already be in the warehouse. If they were already inside, they could jump out at any minute and attack me. I darted my gaze around the fake yard, searching for danger. I didn’t check my footing. The step was shorter than I’d anticipated, and my heel clipped the front of the step. My ankle rolled, and my full weight went down on my turned foot. I screamed in pain and tumbled to the ground, the knife flying from my hand. Fiery hot pain lanced up my ankle and down my foot.
"Fuck, shit, fuck," I moaned, clutching my foot.
Bong. "What are you doing? Get up." Sam’s voice called out from speakers in the foyer, distant and somewhat hollow.
"I hurt my ankle," I called back. Then an idea sprang to mind. Maybe this was my way out of doing this. "I can’t stand."
There was a moment of silence before Sam spoke again. "Your injury is not relevant. You must complete the given task. Go."
Asshole. "I told you I can't stand, much less walk or run after someone." My voice strained with the pain. Agony pulsed in my ankle, but it was already fading, vanishing to a dull throb. It was not as bad as I was letting on, but I couldn’t tell him that.
"I suggest you get up, grab your weapon, and continue."
This was my one chance, I had to make it good. I rolled over and got on my hands and knees before standing. I put weight on my ankle, it hurt, but wasn’t terrible. Still, I wanted to make a good show of it. I tumbled back to the ground screaming in pain, grabbing my foot again.
"I can’t," I screamed. "It hurts."
Another long pause, then Sam’s voice returned, much more irritated than before. "Fine. I will have one of the housemates retrieve you. Make no mistake, you will go hunting, Dahlia. You’ll have two days to recover. Not a moment longer. Is that understood? If you must limp, then you will limp."
"Got it," I grimaced.
I rolled around moaning and groaning, holding my foot for nearly fifteen minutes until Liam appeared at the door, machete in hand. We locked eyes, and I wondered if Sam had sent him to kill me. Maybe he was pissed I hadn’t played the game and he was going to pick me off now? Thankfully, instead of slamming the blade into my skull, Liam tucked it into his belt, careful not to cut himself.
"What the hell happened?" he asked, as he took the steps down off the porch.
"Rolled my ankle." If Sam was watching, he’d never know my injury was as mild as it was. I had even forced some tears out. Making it look like I was in terrible pain.
