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“Let’s go.” Ryat pulls the kid toward the door, and I hold it open for them as he drags him outside. “Which room?” Ryat barks, shoving the kid forward, and he trips, falling onto his knees in the gravel parking lot.
“Five,” he rushes out, pointing at it. “They’re in room five.”
Ryat looks at me, and I nod. Walking over to the hearse, I open the back, grab a few things that I had packed, and walk toward the front door of number five. I place what I wanted on the ground in front of it, and the kid gets to his feet and starts to run away.
“No, you don’t. You watch. From your knees.” Ryat kicks the back of his legs, and the kid falls to the gravel parking lot once more.
I go around the back and pour the gasoline in front of each back door, leaving a trail from room to room so there are no gaps. Then I take the boxes of matches and light several of them, tossing them into the gasoline.
Making my way back to the front, I cross my arms over my chest, spread my legs, and wait. The smell of fire grows stronger, and the kid on his knees sniffs the air.
“What is that? Is the building on fire?” he rushes out.
“Not yet,” I answer.
“Fuck,” he whimpers. Leaning forward, he grips his sandy blond hair with his hands. “My dad is going to kill me.”
Crackling wood fills the air, and I smile when I hear screams from inside the motel. We could have stormed in and dragged him out, but this is better. More exciting.
The door to number five is ripped open, and a woman rushes out first. Her shrill scream follows as she steps into the center of the bear trap I planted. It was meant for him, but anything to slow them down is a win in my book.
He runs out after her, tripping over her body that thrashes around on the ground while she tries to open the bear trap—as if they work that way.
“Hello, Timothy,” Ryat speaks, stepping forward.
The guy’s head snaps up, and wide eyes meet Ryat’s before they go to mine. “What the fuck?” He shuffles back toward the building.
“Tim?” The woman sobs. “Help me…”
Timothy gets to his feet and goes to run back into the motel, trying to run from us but realizes the fire is growing bigger by the second, consuming the old wooden building. I can feel the heat taking over the night.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
“Two ways, Timothy,” Ryat announces. “One, you get in the car willingly. Two, I make you.”
He looks at Ryat and then turns to run. Ryat sighs, pulls out his gun from the back waistband of his jeans, and fires, making the woman cry out as Timothy falls to his face by the hearse. He hit him in the back of the leg. Nothing life-threatening. Just to slow him down.
I walk over and open the back of the hearse, pulling out the casket on the rollers. Ryat grabs Timothy’s shirt and drags him to where I am.
He’s screaming for the bitch he was fucking that is still stuck in the bear trap as Ryat picks him up. I open the top of the casket and help throw him inside. “Lie down. I don’t want to kill you too soon,” I inform him as I start to close it.
“Nice.” Ryat nods, admiring the inside. “Did you make that?”
“Haidyn did,” I say, looking over the spikes he placed on the inside of the lid. So when it’s closed, it keeps whoever is on the inside lying flat. He said he didn’t want them lying directly on it because it’d impale them and they’d bleed out too soon.
Shutting the lid, I take the latch and lock the man inside. Then we shove it forward and shut the back door.
“What do you want to do with them?” I nod to the woman crawling away from the burning building and the man kneeling in front of it while he cries, thinking of all the ways his father will kill him.
I go over to her and undo the bear trap. She pulls her leg to her chest while lying on her back, sobbing.
Ryat goes to the Porsche parked on the side, opens the door, and digs around in it. Finding the set of keys, he tosses them to the kid. “Take her to the hospital. And enjoy the new car. Timothy won’t need it where he’s going.”
ASHTYN
The following morning,I get out of the shower to see a note on the counter between the two sinks right in front of where Saint pressed my face into the bathroom mirror. You can still see the print of tears and cum on it. Picking up the piece of paper, I read.
Do your makeup. Red lipstick, black mascara, and eyeliner to match. Make yourself look pretty for me.
