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)
Graves groans, his skin quickly being torn to shreds, all while Stone discreetly tries to slink back into the shadows. Only his foolishness knows no bounds, and when he keeps backing up, he puts himself right into The Boston Maneater’s arms. All I can do is shake my head.
I suppose this particular cannibal is getting a good meal tonight.
In a flash, a blade catches against the moonlight, and I watch without surprise as it slices across the front of Stone’s throat. The move instantly takes him out of the competition and decorates the concrete in a wave of splattering blood. The Boston Maneater has secured the first three kills of the game. It was a bold move, but a good one, and I don’t doubt that I would have done the same in his situation.
The splattering of Stone’s blood distracts Crimson Rain from her brutal attack for a fraction of a second, but it’s all Graves needs to gain the upper hand, despite the way blood drenches his clothes. He shoves into her, knocking her off balance, and sends her sprawling to the ground with a loud thud.
The anger in his eyes is off-putting, something I’ve rarely witnessed, but among killers like this, it’s not unusual. Once they get the taste for blood, there’s no telling what they might do.
Crimson Rain scrambles to her feet to retreat, but he stalks her like a starved man, not allowing her to gain any traction. She has no choice but to fight. She kicks at his legs, trying to trip him up as she frantically searches for something to use as a weapon. I won’t lie, it’s certainly entertaining and gives me a good idea of who these people really are. These two, in particular, there’s something here. Maybe this isn’t their first run-in, and judging by the way she was laying into him with those pointed brass knuckles, I can only assume he broke her heart in one hell of a spectacular way.
As he continues stalking her, another figure jumps out from the side alley next to the old warehouse. I recognize him immediately. Slasher. The name has stuck with me for years after the asshole wandered his sorry ass onto my turf and started causing the type of chaos that was drawing too much attention. I was left with no other choice but to send a stern warning, and it truly is miraculous that he somehow recovered enough to gain full use of both of his kneecaps. I can’t lie, I was surprised to see him standing around that circle in the warehouse, but not as surprised as he was to see me. That kill would have been sweet, but something tells me I’m not going to get the honor. I should have killed him when I had the chance.
Slasher sprints toward Graves, a dagger clutched tightly in one hand, but as another body begins carelessly slinking through the center of the mayhem, all I can do is gawk.
Fucking Reaper.
He takes leisurely stride after leisurely stride as though he doesn’t even notice the bullshit around him, but that’s not possible. He simply doesn’t care. It’s as though he knows they can’t touch him, not even if the three of them worked together to bring him down. Then, as if he has all the time in the world, he pauses and turns toward Graves and Crimson Rain, watching the way Slasher races toward them.
Slasher’s momentum falters under Reaper’s scrutiny, and his weak-ass knees literally crumble beneath him, taking him heavily to the ground. This fumble gives Graves the opening he needs. Abandoning his advantage on Crimson Rain, he lunges for Slasher first, deciding he’s the bigger threat, but he refuses to take his eyes off Reaper.
Graves takes him out quickly and efficiently with a boot directly to the back of the spine, snapping his neck with ease. He’s still cautiously watching Reaper, but I don’t think Reaper is even a little bit interested in getting involved. He just stopped to casually watch the show, and it also doesn’t go unnoticed that the moment Reaper stepped out into the spotlight, every other bystander mysteriously vanished.
The distraction gives Crimson Rain the precious seconds she needs to get back to her feet, and instead of fleeing as any other sane person would, she lunges for Graves again, her pointed cat-ear brass knuckles plunging deep into the side of his neck.
He cries out in agony, and while it’s a devastating blow, it’s not a fatal one. If he can escape this, he’ll give himself a second chance in these games. Assuming Crimson Rain doesn’t finish him off first.
Graves whips around toward her and lunges at her, barely noticing the way half of his skin is torn into ribbons. He grabs her head and slams it against the wall of the warehouse, and I have to lean further over the edge of the roof to see the performance properly, but as I do, I feel that same chill in my bones and I tear my gaze away from the dueling couple to the ghost in the middle of the street. His haunting stare is locked on me again.