Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Those cold, lifeless bodies tied behind the targets.
The bullet holes I’d made, neat and precise, perfectly centered in their skulls.
The blood.
Thick and dark.
Dripping slowly like a twisted hourglass, each drop marking the moment I’d crossed an invisible line.
Fuck him. Those aren’t my victims. They’re not. It doesn’t count.
Shivering, I placed the tea back on the table and told myself that those men were already gone before I pulled the trigger.
They had to be dead before I even arrived. That was just one of his fucked-up illusions again.
Yet, logic gnawed at my brain.
No. . .I killed them. . .
Leo was sick.
Those men had been breathing, barely hanging on, and I had been the one to steal the last bit of life from them.
Don’t think about it. Talk to God about this when you’re gone from Leo. For now. . .focus.
I took another sip of tea, hoping the heat would burn my anxiety away, but it clung to me like smoke, curling into every corner of my mind.
Am I a killer now?
The weight of the gun had felt so right in my hands—too right.
It was a terrifying realization, knowing how easily I could fire without hesitation, how natural it had become to aim and shoot, even with that sickening sense of unease lurking beneath the surface.
Even after the blood began to appear on the target. . .I kept on shooting.
No. No. Don’t.
I put my view back on Leo and he was still watching and assessing me.
He’s trying to strip away the part of me that still believes in limits? I won’t let that happen.
I swallowed hard.
The tea tasted like ash now. The delicate jasmine scent clashed with the metallic memory of blood in the cold night air.
I finished my tea and placed the cup on the table.
Leo spoke for the first time since the phone call. “Would you like more tea?”
“No.” Song shook his head. “She should not get anymore, Leo.”
“What does that mean?” I blinked.
Oh fuck. What was in the tea?
Shivering, I glanced down at the empty cup.
Come on, girl. Why are you slipping tonight? Shit! You should have known better.
I lifted my view back to him. “What did you give me?”
“Something to keep your mind steady and your heart motivated for your final test.”
“What was it?”
“You have more things than that to worry about, my little monster.”
“I’m not your monster.”
That wicked smirk hit his face. “It scares your mind to see yourself that way.”
"No. You just think that calling me a monster, again and again, will make it real. You want the word to sink into my soul.”
“The way their blood seeped into those wooden targets?”
I flinched.
“Monique, tonight you will learn something that can be quite addicting.”
“And. . .what is that?”
“Killing can be a drug. There’s a thrill to it. A shot of power. A. . .dark satisfaction of watching someone fall under your control, of knowing you ended them.”
"That’s not me and it will never be me.”
“You think so?” Leo's words were light, almost teasing, but they held an undercurrent of something much darker. His gaze held mine with that same look—a predator taking in its prey.
The heat from the fireplace crackled and popped, casting long shadows across his face.
The scent of burning wood rose even more. It was a soothing smell that had no place in this moment of horrific tension.
I leaned against the table. "I don't just think so, Leo. I know."
A flicker of amusement danced across his dark eyes. "Good. Confidence will be key tonight. But I wonder. . .do you remember how your heart raced when you pulled the trigger for the first time this evening? How warm and alive you felt? Perhaps there's more to you than you'd like to admit."
His words hit me like a punch to the stomach.
Images flooded back into my mind— the cold weight of the gun in my hands, the sharp smell of gunpowder in the air, the targets getting bullets one by one.
I shook my head. "That was the game, Leo."
“And your last test will be a game too.”
“How?”
“You will go into a space where all want you dead and somehow, you will survive.”
I widened my eyes. “What space?”
Leo turned to Song. “Please see if they are done. We will need to go soon.”
I fisted my hands in my lap. “Go where?”
Song rose and headed off.
Once he got to the back door, he opened it and stepped through.
I caught more sounds from outside—low voices speaking in rapid Chinese, sharp and urgent. A wet thwack echoed through the night, followed by the unmistakable sound of slicing. The noises blurred together with the shuffling of feet, the scrape of wood, and the murmur of Song’s orders.
My stomach twisted with fear. “What are they doing out there?”
Leo returned his gaze to me. “They’re preparing.”
“Preparing for what?”
His smile deepened, lazy and deliberate, as if the question had amused him. “For your final challenge, my little monster.”