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)
He stutters but can’t get a single word out. Instead, he wets his pants like a scared child. All I can do is shake my head in disgust. “Are you serious? You’re a fucking serial killer, man. Get it together.”
“I . . . I . . . I—”
“Hushhhhh,” I say, lifting a sole finger to my lips as I look over the small stab wound Crimson Rain left in his neck last night. “She really did a number on you. It’s a shame she missed the artery.”
“She was a fucking bitch. She deserved everything she got.”
“Come on, now. We don’t speak ill of the dead. But I’m curious. If she deserved everything she got, then pray tell, what is it you deserve?”
“Let me go,” he begs. “We can work together. I’ll hunt them down, give you the credit.”
A sharp laugh booms through my chest. “In what world would I possibly require your help? You are at the bottom of the food chain. You almost let a woman get the drop on you barely three seconds after the games commenced. You and I are not on the same level.”
Using my free hand, I reach for his neck injury, pushing my fingers into the small stab wounds and widening the holes as he roars in agony.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’d very much like to get out of here,” I inform him. “There’s a cold shower calling my name.” He barely gets another cry out when I sink my two fingers deeper into the wound, taking a firm hold of his skin, then with everything I’ve got, I tear my hand away, ripping his skin clean off his neck and breaking right through the artery that Crimson Rain missed last night.
Graves drops to the floor, blood spurting across the room, and as the bright red bodily fluid splatters over the front of my leather jacket, disappointment floods me. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I mutter, looking at Graves with an accusatory glare as though the asshole could somehow control the rapid splatter of blood coming from his torn artery. “Do you have any idea how fucking expensive this jacket is?”
Graves clutches his throat as his blood spills over his fingers and soaks into the carpet beneath my feet. His skin quickly loses color, and I let out a heavy sigh before stealing the white duvet off the bed. After laying it down on the ground, I position Graves over it, and then before he’s even finished dying, I take his identification card and roll him up in the thick blanket.
Hauling him over my shoulder, I stride out through the shattered door and back into the hallway before casually strolling down to the elevator, feeling the exact moment his body gives out and the fucker finally dies. After hitting the button, it arrives within seconds and I smile to myself as the soft ding sounds through the hallway.
I make my way onto the elevator and press the button for level six while listening to the soft drip, drip, drip, of blood soaking through the blanket and splattering on the elevator floor. The door opens on the sixth floor, and I stride out into the hallway before smiling to myself as I find the hotel’s housekeeping cart abandoned in the hallway.
The maid is nowhere to be seen, and as I stride past the cleaning cart, I dump Graves’ body right into it, the once white blanket now the brightest shade of red. I don’t skip a beat as I continue down the hall to room 611, and after swiping my access card, I enter my room, grab my shit, and get the fuck out of there.
Despite the lack of cameras and the effort made to keep my face hidden from both staff and other guests, it’s too fucking risky. In the next ten minutes, the hotel will be locked down with police tape stretching from one end to the other and when that happens, I need to be anywhere but here.
Making my way back to the elevator, I pass the cleaning cart and chuckle to myself. That really was fun. I should allow myself to indulge a little more often. Reaching the elevator, I hit the call button, and when it arrives back to my floor, I step inside. As the doors close, a loud shriek tears down the hall. I guess the maid just returned to her cart, and I can’t fault myself. It was marvelous timing.
Getting my ass out of here, I dive into my car and take off, putting as much distance between me and the hotel as possible. I suppose finding myself a proper home for the duration of the games is going to come a little sooner than anticipated.
As I drive through the streets, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to find a notification from War Games. It’s exactly midnight, and they’ve sent out their first update.