Page 400 of Coal Hearts

“Paintball?”

“With a twist.” He laughed.

“Hell yeah.” Patrick, one of the guests I recognised, grabbed a gun and squeezed the empty trigger a few times. “New and improved, you say? Shit, this is gonna be good.”

“How’s it improved, Vic?” Ferdinand—the guy who had sick, sick fetishes—grabbed his own gun.

“Well, you’re all aware that usually the winner is decided by the number of bruises they leave on a particular jewel. We’ve used all manner of tools in the past. Paddles, rolling pins, canes—”

“Billiard balls are my favourite.” Charles interrupted. “Laying a jewel on the pool table, then scoring a shot with them lying in the middle. Dane had a nice array of round-shaped bruises all along his sides for weeks.”

“Lawn bowls was great for me.” Roland chuckled. “Using Mollie as the jack and trying to get as many to whack into her as possible was addictive. And a good work-out.” He jiggled his large belly. “Definitely worked up an appetite.”

My hands clenched tighter around my gun.

“Yes, well. This time, I upped the ante.” Victor tossed the final few assault weapons to his guests. They sailed through the air looking exactly like AK-47s. “Usually, the winner gets to enjoy a night of their choice in the snuffbox or dungeon, painting their jewel with a few more bruises if they feel so inclined. They’re still bound by my guidelines, and I don’t tolerate unnecessary violence, but...it’s always been good fun.”

“What do the winners get today, then?” Patrick asked, swiping his hand beneath his nose, looking cracked out with eagerness to begin.

Grinning like a puppeteer pulling everyone’s nasty strings, Victor announced, “I’m aware some of you might be feeling a tad, shall we say...stifled under my many rules. And so...my gift to you is...no rules.”

Men looked at one another in confusion.

But then...that confusion slowly switched to understanding and finally to fucking glee.

“You mean it, Vic?” Charles asked. “You truly mean we can do whatever the fuck we want?”

Nodding, Victor slammed a crate closed and leapt onto it like a goddamn spider monkey. Spreading his arms, he glowed beneath the sunshine. “Each gun will be loaded with a particular colour. That colour will determine the winner. The one who manages to shoot and paint a jewel the most—layering him or her with bruises at the same time—will win the right to do whatever their blackened heart desires.”

“Even mutilation?” Ferdinand asked quietly.

“Yep.” Victor nodded. “With my blessing.”

“Asphyxiation?” Charles asked.

“Of course.”

“Hook play?”

What the fuck is hook play?

“Mm-hmm.” Victor smiled.

“Death?” Roland smiled like a psychopath. “What about that?”

Victor didn’t reply for a moment, dragging out the suspense and my damn heartrate. Finally, he clasped his hands and pinned all of us with a blank, deadly serious stare.

His temper rose without warning—his frustration and intolerance, and every sick emotion he harboured that was usually so well covered with careful veneer—crawled to the surface and rained over us like acid.

“You hunt to eat, don’t you? You shoot to kill, yes? Well, my beloved friends...today is that hunt. Today is that kill. So yes. Whoever wins this game has my unequivocal permission to do whatever he fucking wants. My gems have been protected by my rules for long enough and deserve a refresher for just how good they have it.”

He swiped away a fake tear. “Am I not good to them? Do I not provide them comfy beds, healthy food, and good healthcare?”

“You do, Vic. You’re a fabulous father.”

“And so why must they keep chipping away at my magnanimity? Why must I stoop to their level to remind them that they are fucking nothing to me? They are mine. My flock. My sheep. My little herd to do whatever I fucking well please with. They’re spoiled and ungrateful, and after today...they will remember their place.” Breathing hard, he raked both hands through his hair and smiled. “After today, you’ll see...we will have peace again, and all this nasty tension will be behind us.”

Leaping down from the crate, he grabbed his own gun. “Now, arm up, gentlemen, the hunt is about to begin.”