AllFreeNovel
Share Us
During brief windows when the pain and vertigo subsided enough to allow clear thought, Callan sifted through every interaction with the Game Master since arriving here, analyzing details for anything useful.
He wished Roseline was here with him. Her brilliant mind would spot clues and patterns he overlooked. He clung fiercely to her memory—recalling the silkiness of her hair, the warmth of her skin against his, her razor-sharp intellect and intuition. Her strength anchored him, fueling his determination to withstand whatever the Game Master had in store and live to see her again.
Time lost meaning as Callan drifted in and out of hazy semi-consciousness. His internal clock was disrupted between the concussion and windowless cell. It could have been minutes or hours since the Game Master left—there was no way to know.
Callan persisted in testing every millimeter of the ropes imprisoning him. He wrenched his shoulders hard despite the stabbing protests from his battered muscles. The dried blood coating his abrasions cracked and flaked off as he twisted against the unforgiving bindings. The frayed ropes scraped his raw flesh even more, but Callan ignored the fiery sensation. Escape was all that mattered.
During one particularly forceful lunge forward, the chair itself budged, making a harsh scraping sound against the concrete floor. Callan instantly repeated the motion, muscles burning, pain receptors screaming. But it was no use—the chair’s thick metal legs were bolted securely in place. Even if he somehow broke free of the ropes, the chair itself would still trap him here. Escape seemed impossible, but he refused to surrender to hopelessness. Not while there was still breath left in his body.
When exhaustion overtook him again, Callan’s thoughts turned to Roseline like a lifeline, keeping him tethered amid the swells of agony and despair.
How long had he been here?
He didn’t know.
But he pictured her back in the glowing halo of her computer screens, eyes blazing with ferocious focus as she parsed data points and electronic signals, searching for any weakness in the Game Master’s digital fortress. Callan had witnessed firsthand how she could tease out patterns and meaning from a collection of data, divine critical secrets in mountains of mundane code. She had crafted her mind into a formidable weapon. And now, he prayed that weapon could disrupt this sadistic killer’s plots before more innocent blood was spilled.
A metallic clang snapped Callan awake once more. Heart lurching, he lifted his throbbing head toward the door just as it swung open. The Game Master strode in, oozing that same predatory confidence as before. Callan sensed whatever twisted game was coming next teetered dangerously close.
“I trust you’ve rested sufficiently for our main festivities,” the Game Master remarked. His tone was casual and upbeat, like a host planning benign entertainment rather than inflicting torment. “We wouldn’t want you too fatigued to take part now.”
Callan bit back the string of venomous curses poised on his tongue. He wouldn’t waste his venom on this snake. Eyes narrowed, he tracked the Game Master’s every move, watching for the best moment to act.
The man circled Callan’s chair, seemingly inspecting him for any progress in the rope bindings. “Ah, I see you’ve been busy testing your confines,” he remarked, noting the torn flesh and bloodied contusions on Callan’s wrists and ankles. “Admirable, but pointless. My knot work is immaculate.”
Callan kept silent, muscles tensed and coiled despite screaming protest from his battered body. He suspected the Game Master wanted him to react, to betray pain or fear to fuel his twisted desires. Callan refused to oblige.
“Well, shall we proceed?” the Game Master asked, eager to commence the next phase. He retrieved Callan’s confiscated cell phone from inside his suit jacket, powering it on. “We have a special guest waiting most anxiously for your call.”
Callan’s gut twisted. The “special guest” could only mean Roseline. He should have known the Game Master would target her, too, wanting to torment them both. Raw panic constricted Callan’s throat, cutting off any possible reply.
The Game Master regarded Callan’s stunned expression with evident satisfaction. “I see you’ve deduced my meaning. Your partner’s concern for you is quite touching.”
He turned the phone’s screen so Callan could see Roseline’s name and number flashing with an incoming call. The Game Master’s thumb hovered over the answer button.
“Let’s give her a front-row seat to the festivities, shall we?” he asked. Without waiting for a reply, he swiped to answer. Putting the call on speaker, the Game Master lifted the phone toward Callan with one hand while withdrawing a gleaming hunting knife with the other.
Roseline’s frantic voice rang out. “Callan?! Are you there? Please answer me!”
“Don’t listen to him, Roseline!” Callan yelled, heedless of the knife tip digging into his neck. “Get out of here, find help?—”
His plea was cut off by the Game Master savagely backhanding him across the face. Blood filled Callan’s mouth where his teeth had sliced the inside of his cheek.
“Silence, unless you want me to cut out your tongue,” the Game Master growled. His playful tone slipped for a moment, revealing the vicious sadist underneath.
Turning back to the phone, his tone shifted seamlessly back to casual politeness. “My apologies for the disruption. Your partner can be quite excitable.”
“Let him go, you bastard!” Roseline shouted. Under her fury, Callan detected raw fear—for him. It shredded his heart.
The Game Master chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think so. The games have only just begun. But don’t worry, my dear. You’ll be reunited with your detective very soon.”
Callan’s gut churned at the implication. He screamed hoarsely, “No! Don’t come here, Roseline! Just run, get away from?—”
Another brutal backhand knocked Callan’s head to the side, fresh blood spilling from his mouth. Dazed, he could only listen as the Game Master purred into the phone.
“Here is how this will proceed. You will come to me, alone, at the location I will provide shortly. If you involve any other police, your partner’s chances of leaving here alive are… quite null.”
Roseline was silent for a tense beat. Her voice was lethally calm. “Understood. Send me the location.”
