Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
I keep my eyes open, watching the scene unfold in front of the warehouse while making sure no one is able to get the drop on me up here. I’m close enough to the neighboring property that if anyone decides to look for me, I can jump to the next roof or race down the fire escape. I arrived here an hour before anyone else and cased the property before checking the surrounding ones. I know every possible escape route, and from here, there are at least three ways out that would keep me concealed in the shadows.
The sound of a motorcycle roars through the night before taking off down the deserted street, and all I can do is shake my head. Only a fool would come to War Games with a vehicle that could give away his location in milliseconds. There are a few other cars in the backstreets, each of them a little more discreet, and as they race out of here, I cast my attention on the chaos below.
There are at least ten people. Some are hiding in the shadows, waiting for their chance to secure the first identifications of the games, while others don’t have the patience to wait them out.
Without streetlights, it’s dark out, but I have just enough moonlight to make out the faces of the men and women below. Grim and Blade are the two that steal my attention first. Neither of them came off as a threat to me during our initial meeting, and judging by the way they both couldn’t stand still, I’m not surprised to see them being the first to jump into the madness. Patience is a virtue, and letting your ego get the best of you isn’t going to work in your favor.
Blade is a scrawny guy, and I’m not surprised when he pulls a long blade from a holster inside his jacket. After all, most of us were appointed our aliases for a reason, and this right here is clearly Blade’s MO. On the other hand, Grim is simply a brute. He’s big and angry like the dumb jocks in high school who were always rejected by the girls. I wouldn’t be surprised if this dude was taking steroids. No amount of gym time could naturally get anybody this big.
Fear flashes in Blade’s eyes, and he lunges toward Grim, making contact with the big bastard’s forearm, but the adrenaline hits Grim like a shot of tequila, and he continues toward Blade, not even realizing how detrimental that decision is.
Grim captures Blade’s hand in his overly big one and squeezes. The familiar sound of crushing bone fills the silent street, quickly followed by an agonized scream.
Grim yanks Blade into him, spinning him in the process so that Blade’s scrawny back is pressed against his beefy chest. He brings up Blade’s hand until the tip of his own knife rests against the base of his throat.
“No. No. No. No,” Blade roars, his eyes wide with terror, but before he can get another protest out, Grim plunges the sharp knife right through his delicate skin until the tip of the blade protrudes from the back of his neck, instantly severing his spine.
Grim releases Blade, and his body falls lifelessly to the ground, the knife clattering on the cold concrete beside him. Grim smirks down at his kill before finally sparing a glance at the deep cut running up the length of his forearm. He looks at it for just a moment before starting to sway on his feet, which is when another player enters the chat.
Stone.
He’s been watching from the shadows just like a few other contenders, but with Grim losing blood so quickly, he couldn’t resist claiming the kill, which would give him possession of Blade’s death as well.
Stone rushes in behind Grim before he even knows he’s there and grips the front of his chin. Stone violently twists, and with a sickening crack, Grim’s lifeless body falls beside Blade’s.
It’s almost poetic. I’ve always believed that karma is a bitch, and this right here is more than proof of that.
Stone hastily glances around, making sure the coast is clear, and while I admire his balls to jump in and claim the kill, he’s foolish for believing there’s no one else around. Right now, he’s a sitting duck, and he doesn’t have a single clue.
Deciding he’s in the clear, he dives into Grim’s pocket, fumbling as he pulls out his wallet to search for his ID. Then, finding what he’s looking for, he begins searching for Blade’s, only a noise across the wide entrance of the warehouse has both mine and Stone’s gazes glancing that way.
A hollow groan ripples through the night, and I search the darkness before watching with a keen eye as the guy who I think called himself Graves gets the shit beat out of him by Crimson Rain, a petite woman with deep burgundy hair. She goes in on him over and over, pointed brass knuckles secured around her fingers and stabbing into his skin with every devastating blow. Only these punches aren’t just about winning the game, it’s personal, and I can’t help but wonder what the connection is there.