Page 21 of Make Her Scream

My heart thumps in my chest and my breathing is quick and shallow. Cold sweat beads across my hairline, and I hope Mal doesn’t notice how clammy my palms are. Every part of me is on high alert. Every snap of a twig is like an explosion, and every rustle in the bushes feels like a herd of elephants is about to charge at us. I strain my ears for any shouts from the men who might be stalking us, but there’s nothing. Have they come after us already and are so well practiced at this that they’re able to move in near silence?

Tension radiates from my men. They’re all tall, and trying to move quietly isn’t easy for them. I see it in the way their muscles are knotted, the hunch of their shoulders, the way their hands dart to the places where they’ve hidden their weapons at any external sound. I wish I had a knife as well. I wouldn’t hesitate to stick one of those sick freaks in the guts if they came near me. I hate to think about how they had their fingers inside me, and their tongues on my clit. How I took pleasure in their touch. It makes me feel sick and squirmy inside. I haven’t even told my men just how far it went, and the thought of opening up to them sends a new shiver of fear through me. Will they look at me differently? I know they love me, but I would hate to see that doubt in their eyes, the belief that I’m tainted, somehow.

It seems we’re heading deeper and deeper into the woods, and Roman turns to Cain.

“Try your cell again. Just to see if we’ve got a signal now we’re farther out.”

Cain does and blows out a breath in disappointment. “Nope. It could just be that it’s patchy as hell out here with it being so rural, or it’s still near enough to the carnival to be jammed.”

As we move among the trees, for a moment, I think the guys might have changed their minds, and we are actually making a run for it. But then, with a sense of dismay, I realize the music from the fairground is growing louder again. I’ve lost my sense of direction, but my men haven’t.

They’re circling back toward the carnival.

Eventually, we break out from beneath the trees. This time, we don’t go to the front entrance with its terrifying clown but, instead, sneak around the back until we see the place where the large trash cans are located. Just as the girl promised, there is a piece of tarpaulin pulled down between a gap in the tall perimeter fence. Cain glances at me, checking I’m okay, before he pulls the tarpaulin up and slips inside. Malachi follows, tugging me through after him, and Roman takes the rear.

Once we’re back on the midway, with the lights and the sounds and the scents of the carnival, my stomach lurches violently. What I’d once considered fun and lighthearted has now taken on a whole different feel. Maybe the Prophet had been right when he’d said this was a place for demons, but then he’d have known all about that, since I believe he was one himself.

This is the last place I want to be.

But then I think about something for the first time tonight. I stop only focusing on myself and the Preachers and think about what the sister said. We’re not the first to go through this hell. Many others came before us, and that means those men have been torturing, raping, and possibly killing women for some time. We could put an end to that tonight.

A very selfish, scared part of me simply wants to go home and forget about this place. But then we’d be letting down all the women who might come after me. Furthermore, how the hell can I be sure those men won’t track us down to where we live? Yes, the college has great security, but it’s not an impossibility.

The Preachers must have spoken with them to organize this, whether on the phone or via socials or email, and that means we are traceable. Unless we deal with the brothers and face them, we’re always going to be looking over our shoulders. And I’ve done more than enough of that over my lifetime.

Taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders, I turn back to face Roman. I stare at him with a new determination in my eyes, and something passes between us. I know he understands what I’m feeling.

A loud hollered whoop comes from somewhere deep in the woods behind us. Loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the rides.

“I think they took the bait,” Cain hisses. “We need to find out if one is watching the security feed and slit his fucking throat.”

I shiver at the menace in Cain’s tone, grateful he’s on our side.

“The twister ride is this way.” Malachi heads off at a jog, keeping low, toward the ride that made me feel sick.

He makes sure to stick low enough to the ground that he won’t be easily seen, and we all follow suit. Around the back of the ride is a small office building. Just a tiny job-site trailer that’s obviously been put up in haste, when they assembled the carnival.

The sickly yellow glow of a fading fluorescent light shines out of the office window, falling in a beam of illumination on the worn-down grass below.

Cain signals for us all to stay back as he climbs the lowest step leading to the door. I hold my breath. These stairs look rickety; the whole thing has been constructed in maybe a couple of hours and might creak and groan when anyone steps on it. However, Cain keeps his footsteps light and tiptoes up until he reaches the top. He stands on the small landing and peers in the grimy window to his right.

He fist pumps the air to let us know someone is inside, then holds up one finger.

So, just one of the brothers is there, which means the other four are either running in the woods, or perhaps have split up. Or we could be being watched right now.

I shudder at the thought. These men have got to be completely psychotic. There might be five of them and only four of us, but the fact they took on the Preachers just for kicks tells me they are insane.

Cain gestures with his palm facing us, telling us to stay, and slowly twists the handle on the office door.

When he slips inside, I send up a prayer. Please, God, let him be okay.

For an excruciatingly long moment, there’s no sound at all, and then a loud bang rents the air as someone smashes into the side of the cabin. The whole structure wobbles and there’s a muffled shout, followed by a shriek.

My entire body tenses, and a cry escapes my lips. Cain is big and strong and capable, but we don’t know what kind of match he’s up against. I want to rush up those steps and help Cain, but even though I don’t move, Roman puts his hand out and grips my wrist, holding me in place. It’s as if he can sense that I’m about to go storming in there.

More bangs, and another bout of rocking, then Cain opens the door, grinning like a fucking maniac, blood all over his shirt.

“All clear,” he tells us. “You’re gonna want to see this.”