Page 149 of Off the Rails

Usually, someone would have come by now. With any luck, none of my hunters would have pulled a card for this section. I could be safe for half the game.

But then, I heard it: a thud in the distance.

My lungs struggled to hold air as I strained my ears to listen. I wanted to believe it was a wild animal. But then, the scrape of metal followed: a long, piercing sound coming from just outside the saloon door.

I didn’t have much time. If I had learned anything from the practice chase, it was that not running early enough had gotten me caught. And while Blade’s torture had been a sweet release, I wasn’t anyone’s toy tonight.

Standing as quickly and quietly as I could, I darted across the saloon toward the back door, hunching low behind the staggered tables and chairs. But before I could slip out into the night, the front door was kicked open. A shadowy, backlit figure filled the doorframe.

Fuck.

There was no time to see which masked psycho was chasing me. I bolted through the back door, scrabbling out just before a wooden chair shattered against the wall. That place was a maze of old wooden furniture, but knowing the Freaks, they’d make splinters of it all before they let me slip away.

Shit, shit, shit.

With only a few seconds’ lead, I wasn’t sure where to go. I sprinted for the darkest shadow I could find, closing the distance between myself and the Medieval Mayhem with haste.

There was a moat there. Maybe I could hide under the water?

And die of hypothermia?

A scoff burst from my chest. It didn’t matter where I was running. I just needed to get away from the deranged clown chasing me through the amusement park.

The scrape of metal made me want to think it was Blade: she was always playing with those fucking handaxes. The smash of the chair could have been Nash testing out her mallet.

But between the hulking shadow that had filled the doorframe and the deadly silence that followed, I knew exactly who was chasing me. And it only made me more desperate for an escape.

As I approached the regal banners that announced the start of Medieval Mayhem, I searched desperately for cover: a bush, or some sort of turret I could hide behind.

Fuck, I’d settle for a dungpile.

But just before I could step out of the Old Frontier, a hand clasped around the back of my neck. With searing force, I was torn back off of my feet. A machete pressed against my neck as my captor held me against her chest.

Then, Cyrus’ gravelly voice breathed in my ear. “Game’s over, Ragdoll.”

82

CYRUS

As I grasped the back of her neck, Tess was already shaking with terror.

Good. She should be afraid.

Lowering the machete, I turned her chin to face me. Her eyes were already glossy with tears, and in them, I could see just a glimmer of familiarity. A look that captured the fear I’d felt escaping Heirs of Promise, the panic that settled into my heartbeat when we’d made Feverpoint our home.

By the time I’m done with Tess, it’ll be much more than just a glimmer.

Pulling a rough, black scrap of fabric from the pocket of my cargo pants, I shoved it into Tess’ hands. “Blindfold yourself. Well.”

She looked down at the fabric, swallowing hard before lifting it to her eyes. I didn’t have to threaten her to tie it tight. She already knew that trying to cheat me would only make this worse.

Once her hands lowered back to her sides, I took a step back, looking her up and down. I waved my hands in front of her face, testing for a reaction. And when I got none, I pressed my palm to the back of her shoulder, startling her with a weak shove back.

“What the fuck?” She spat.

Secure.

I nodded to myself before giving her another nudge. “Walk that way. Don’t stop until I say so.”