I smirk, “I don’t think. I know.”
He gives a dry laugh, then faces the Jeep again. He grabs the duffel we tossed in the back, unzips it, and reaches down.
He pulls out the black skull mask.
The scratched edges catch the flashlight beam. That mask has seen too much of us.
“Interesting,” he murmurs. “Let’s see if your survival skills are still intact, final girl.”
I grin, biting my lip. “You gonna give me a head start?”
Seth flips the mask once in his hand, then looks at me. “You still fast?”
I raise my brows. “Are you asking because you care, or because you want to watch me run?”
His mouth curves. “Both.”
My pulse jumps.
He slips the mask on.
“Run.”
Chapter 82
Seth
Abetter killer than me, huh.
I fucking love her so much.
I have to admit, she’s made progress fast, faster than most people I trained with ever did.
She runs like she means it. Her boots pound over the forest floor in hard, even hits. Her ponytail snaps behind her with every stride, cutting through branches. This isn’t play. This is muscle, adrenaline, and survival fused together. Every movement says the same thing. She doesn’t want to be caught.
But I know she does.
I keep my distance at first. Close enough to keep her in sight, far enough to let her feel that pulse of fear climbing up her throat. I don’t make a sound. Just shadow and breath. Watching. Stalking.
Her body moves like a weapon, cutting through the trees, agile as hell, but I know her rhythm. I know the way she’ll veer left when the slope dips. The way her footwork falters when she's thinking too hard. I track every pivot, every staggered breath.
She has no clue how close I am.
The night air is thick with pine and earth and the faint scent of her perfume. I watch her duck under a low branch, and hear the scrape of bark against her sleeve. She picks up speed on the hill, boots kicking up wet leaves. A fallen log comes up ahead and she vaults over it like she has done it a thousand times.
God, she is fucking fast.
But not faster than me.
I pick up speed. Branches lash my arms. Mud kicks up onto my jeans. I don’t care. All I see is her.
The way she moves like she wants to escape but knows she won’t. I let her go a few more seconds. Just long enough for her to think she might make it.
Then she slips.
Her boot hits mud at the wrong angle and she loses speed. It isn’t a full fall, but it is enough.
I lunge.
