Page 87 of Death Rydes Shotgun

A slow, prideful smile carves across my lips, the monster inside me practically preening under his attention.

“It was so fucking easy. Marcus was desperate. He wanted me back, so I used it against him. I led him around the back of the abandoned concession stand where no one was walking. I dropped my voice, looked him in the eyes, and told him I wanted to rekindle what we used to have.” I step closer until the heat radiating off his perfectly sculpted chest warms my freezing skin.

A dark, breathy giggle escapes my throat as the gruesome memory washes over me.

I continue, “I asked him to stand up on the wooden bench against the support pillar so I could give him a blowjob. He was so blinded by his own ego that he didn’t even hesitate. Once he was standing up there, I told him I wanted to try something kinky. I asked if I could tie his hands above his head to the crossbeam so he couldn’t touch me. He actually laughed and put his wrists together.”

Ryder tilts his head while licking his lips, a look of genuine appreciation settling over his dark features. “And then?”

“And then the idiot let me bind his hands tight with heavy-duty zip ties I grabbed from the concession stand. The second his arms were secured above his head, I kicked the wooden bench out from underneath his feet. He dropped, dangling by his wrists, gasping as his shoulders nearly popped out of their sockets.”

“Before he knew what was happening, I pulled out a yellow plastic rain slicker I had stashed behind the rusted trash can behind the booth. I threw it on over my clothes so the blood wouldn’t ruin my sweater. Then, I unfastened his belt, grabbed my blade,—” I gesture with my bloody knife, illustrating the motion in the damp air. “—and sliced him open from his groin straight up to his sternum in one brutal, upward pull. I cut his throat from ear to ear to drown his screams in his own blood, pulled his intestines out, and let them spill over his shoes.”

Ryder listens to every brutal detail, his pulse visibly thumping against his neck, his dark eyes burning with absolute, consuming obsession.

I step right into Ryder’s space until the tip of my blade brushes his hip. “After he went limp, I took off the rain slicker, rolled it up into a ball, and stuffed it into the trash can. I washed my hands in the portable bathroom sink, slicked my hair back, and ran over to the mirror maze.”

I pause, locking my eyes onto his with a fierce, challenging fire. “I was hoping you were lurking in the shadows somewhere, Ryder. I wanted you to see what I was capable of. I wanted to show you that I’m the better killer.”

A low, rumbling laugh breaks from Ryder’s chest, a sound so dark and delicious it vibrates straight into my core.

I’m not just his obsession—I’m his equal.

Ryder takes a slow step closer, his chest pressing against the side of my face as his gloved fingers reach up to cup my chin. He tilts my head back, forcing me to look up into the dark, swirling void of his eyes.

“You really think you’re the better killer, pretty girl? You like the flair. The drama. The theater of hanging Marcus up like a prize pig for the whole carnival to find.”

“It worked, didn’t it? It brought you straight out of the dark.” I lean into his touch, my heart hammering like a wild beast against my ribs.

“It brought me straight to you,” he corrects, his voice dropping an octave lower, conveying a dangerous promise. “But if we’re going to play this game together, Harmony, you need to understand something. I don’t just kill for the thrill of the theater. I kill to claim. To erase anyone who steps into our orbit.”

I tilt my head, my eyes flicking down to his dark, rain-soaked lips before snapping back to his eyes. “Is that why you gutted Blaire? To claim her?”

“I killed Blaire because she was with you the night Noah died. Her, Tre, and Bryan had to pay the price for being complete assholes in high school, and for the part they played in his death.”

A cold, intoxicating dose of dopamine courses through my veins at the realization that he slaughtered my best friend not out of random bloodlust, but out of a psychotic, obsessive need to pay a debt owed. But, not me. For me, it feels like a dark crown being placed on my head.

“She was a distraction,” I agree, a hollow, cruel smile spreading across my face. “After Noah died, she was never the same. Walking around all guilt ridden. She actually wanted to come clean about what we did.”

“There is no normal life for us, Harmony.” Ryder’s gloved fingers tighten on my jaw, pulling me so close the heat of his breath scorches me. “There is only this. You, me, and the trail of bodies we leave behind.”

I slide my hand underneath his hoodie and press the cold steel of my hunting blade flat against his bare abdomen, feeling his stomach muscles ripple and contract beneath the metal.

“Then show me. Show me how we execute him together.”

I turn my head to Xander, who crouches by the tree, his trembling frame betraying the cold shock that ripples through him after my confession.

The warmth that existed only moments ago, in my voice, turns to ice. “We need to finish him.”

I glance up through the canopy toward the eastern horizon, where the pitch-black sky is slowly softening into a murky, pale grey.

“The sun will be coming up soon.”

Ryder flexes his leather-gloved fingers around the hilt of his blade, his broad shoulder pressing firmly against mine as we loom over the sobbing man in the mud.

“Your call, pretty girl. How do you want to kill him?”

Twenty-Eight