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"Shut the fuck up, okay?" I said with a sneer.
Bri glared at me but said nothing. Instead she went back to her breakfast. Payton came back down a few minutes later with an extendable steel baton and a knife.
He shrugged helplessly and held the items up. "I didn’t know what to choose."
"Good luck, man," Drake said as Payton headed out the front door.
"Rest in peace," Bri muttered without looking up from her omelet.
Chapter 10
DAHLIA
Payton was gone less time than I thought he’d be. If I’d guessed, I would have said he’d get back around dinner. When he came stumbling in bleeding and covered in dirt while I was making meatloaf, it was a surprise. I heard him calling for help all the way in the kitchen.
"Help me. I’m hurt. Someone help."
I rinsed my hands as quickly as I could and rushed out the door of the kitchen, a few feet down the hall, and then into the dining room. Payton was lying on the floor past the broken down wall. He had his head propped up and resting on the massive marble bust Drake had used to crush the wall.
"Dahlia," he said, his eyes widening with relief. "I need help."
He lifted his arm to show me. A nasty looking puncture wound sat right below his left shoulder, oozing blood like crazy.
"What the hell happened to you?" I asked, gaping at him. He’d been gone less than five hours. We’d finished lunch less than twenty minutes before.
Not waiting for him to answer, I rushed to the other side of the room. After stitching up Drake, I’d noticed that almost every room had a first aid kit shoved somewhere. Payton had scooted up to a sitting position by the time I returned. His baton was missing, but the knife, still covered in blood, was clutched in his right hand.
As I dug out the suture kit, I asked him how things had gone. "Well? I’m guessing from the look of you it didn’t go to plan."
Payton chuckled, though there was little humor in it. He glanced at me as I threaded the needle, his eyes wary. "Are, uh, are you sure you know what you’re doing?"
"I did this for Drake a couple days ago. No big deal. I think I can manage you."
"Umm, okay. I guess."
"Now, tell me what happened. It’ll keep your mind off what I’m doing here."
Payton spoke as I sewed, only wincing or flinching a few times as I worked. "I found the guy pretty quick. My wrist thing said he was a rapist. A serial rapist. Sam said he liked to choose elderly ladies. A real fucking sicko, you know?"
"Yeah," I said absently as I worked. "I’ve met a few of those in my time."
"So anyway, I chase him down. I have no clue what I’m going to do when I catch him, but I run. I know he has to be punished. The guy was fucking fast though. Sprinting through the woods like a madman. He’s starting to leave me behind when I get this crazy idea, like something out of a movie. I decided to throw my baton at him. Thinking I can trip him."
I paused and stared at him with my brow knotted. "That worked?"
Payton winced and shrugged the shoulder I wasn’t sewing. "Sort of. It shouldn’t have worked at all, but my aim was shit. Instead of the thing hitting his legs it went high and cracked him in the back of the head. Not hard enough to knock him out, but it must have surprised him, because he tripped and fell face first on the ground."
"Holy shit."
"Yeah." Payton grinned weakly. "One in a hundred shot." The smile faded rapidly. "I get to him, and Sam tells me to take my time with him. I wasn’t allowed to finish him quickly." Unable to meet my eyes, he stared at the floor as he finished. "The messages said that since I did such a bad job at finishing people off fast I should do it slow all the time."
I remembered the way Liam had bucked and gagged as he slowly suffocated, drowned, and bled out all at the same time. Sam was deliberately being a dick now. Rubbing salt into a wound.
"And?" I prodded. "Did you do it? How did you get this wound?"
Payton winced in misery. "I’m not good at this. I’m not as strong as you all. Every time I’m sent to hurt someone I end up puking and shaking. It’s hard for me. I tried. I really did. I tied his hands with his shoelaces and then stabbed him. Shallow at first. His legs and calves, forearms and chest. Lots of stab wounds. I didn’t know how else to make it take a long time. The guy was screaming his guts out for help." He shook his head in shame. "I had to throw up again. There was so much blood. I turned away, for a second, maybe less. When my eyes weren’t on him, he picked up a sharp stick off the ground and stabbed me in the shoulder with it. I was vomiting, and never saw it coming. I fell over but managed to stab or slice him as I went down. I cut him deep, but he still managed to get up and run. All I did was lay there and yank the stick out of my arm. After that I made my way back here. I freaked out once when this big fat guy went running by, his face was all covered in blood. I thought for sure he was sent to kill me, but he saw me and bolted. Once I saw that guy, I hurried even faster."
So Mr. Cartwright was still out there then. How long would Sam leave the victims in the forest? Forever? Or at least until we were able to finish them off. Did that mean the person Liam had been sent out to kill was still there too? Shrugging away the thoughts, I finished the last stitch and tied it off. "So he’s not dead?"
