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)
Once the clock stops, the games have officially begun and nobody will be safe. It’s life or death, no holding back. It’s imperative that we use our time wisely, read the competition, get inside their heads, and figure out who the fuck they are. Otherwise, you’ll be the first one knocked out of the games.
In a flash of blinding light, an overhead spotlight is remotely turned on, and as the shadows are expelled from the warehouse, the faces of the killers around me become real.
There’s a large clock in the center of the circle counting down the final forty-five minutes before the games commence, and I immediately begin committing their faces to memory.
My first quick scan tells me there are thirteen men and seven women, only my gaze stops on one woman . . . or girl, and I’m too shocked to continue my initial assessment. This blue-eyed girl with dark hair is only a child. She’s no older than twelve or thirteen. There’s a darkness in her eyes that tells me she’s seen far more than any child should witness. However, in contrast to the youthfulness of her features, it’s almost off-putting.
What the fuck is this kid thinking walking into a game like this? Does she not understand that these men and women around her won’t hesitate to brutally end her life? I have a moral compass and draw the line at hurting children, but the assholes around me sure as fuck don’t.
She’s too young to have the experience required to win these games, and without a doubt, if it came down to me or her at the very end, I would have no choice but to sacrifice myself in order to see her survive. I couldn’t live with myself afterward if I did what had to be done to win.
Fuck.
This certainly changes things.
Feeling an agonizing pain forming deep in the pit of my stomach, I tear my gaze away from the girl and try to focus on the other contenders in the competition. But seeing the way the other killers keep looking at the girl as an easy target makes my hands ball into fists.
I didn’t sign up for babysitting, but something tells me that’s exactly what this next month is going to look like.
Anger pulses through my veins. These games aren’t something you simply sign up for. You’re selected, which means some asshole in his mother’s basement tracked her down on the dark web, figured out how to get in contact with her, and then thought it would be entertaining to see what would come from offering her an invitation.
Fucking bastard.
Don’t get me wrong, I understand being good at what you do and wanting to prove yourself, but what the fuck is even happening here? Could she not have waited a few years before accepting to participate in bullshit like this? She has her whole fucking life ahead of her.
I try to shake the thought from my head, knowing damn well that I’m here to do a job. I can’t focus on this kid’s health and well-being while I’m supposed to memorize the faces of the men and women I have to kill.
Fifteen minutes in, the man standing directly opposite me in the circle takes a slight step forward. There’s a nervousness in his eyes that I understand all too well, but he holds his head high as he gives up the required information. “The name’s Stone.”
My brow arches as he steps back into position. The name seems familiar to me, though most of them will. I do what I can to keep up to date with all of this shit, needing to know what other monsters lurk through city streets, who poses a threat to me, and who needs to be handled for their own good. If this is the same Stone I’m thinking of, then he won’t be a problem, and I’d assume he’d be targeted early on in these games.
There’s at least a full thirty seconds of silence before the next contender steps forward—a woman standing to my left. “Silver,” she says, her eyes bouncing around the circle as if daring someone to try something.
Her hands ball into tight fists, ready for any threat that might come her way, but before she steps back into formation, another woman with blazing red hair steps forward, a filthy smirk on her face as she pierces Silver with a laser-sharp stare. “Gasoline.”
Silver’s stare widens with surprise before pure rage darkens her gaze, making it more than obvious there’s history between the two, which is probably the worst scenario in this situation. Every other asshole in this room now knows they’ll be so focused on taking out one another that their guards will be down, which is where you make mistakes. And once you slip even a little, you’re as good as dead.