Page 6

O f course the location of the Kortlek is a fucking forest.

It’s a piece of land Dad purchased for Mom around a decade ago. The original plan was to build a hospital there, a free one at that, but given the location and how secluded it is from the city, it fell through. During the winter, the roads here aren’t the best; hence, it would take an ambulance a solid hour to reach the hospital from the city, and that simply wouldn’t work out.

Then, Mom’s idea was to turn it into a retirement home, and why that never happened is something I don’t know to this day. But the land is spacious, and given how my mother genuinely cares about the environment, I just think she didn’t want to cut down all the trees and ruin the forest for the sake of the retirement home.

It’s between ten and fifteen acres of pure green. They did put up high fences all around it back when they originally purchased it, with a gate that is opened with a fingerprint or a passcode. If someone were to try and sneak in and get the passcode wrong, loud alarms would blast. Sure, since it’s far from the city, no one would hear, but for the Kortlek games? Perfect. That way, Arlo and the rest can ensure that no one can leave.

There is a clearing somewhere in the middle of the forest. The grass is freshly mowed to perfection, and the scent is just beautiful since it rained last night. It’s a chilly night, and although I’ve a thick hoodie on, chills still creep up my neck, causing the smallest hairs to sit up straight.

All of the prey are on their knees.

They have a shirt each with a number between one and thirty-eight, signaling which one they are. No names, no personal information, just a number. Each has received a weapon of their choice. Some went for the obvious; guns, rifles, and even silencers to add on. Others went with less good choices; machetes, knives, daggers, and even a baseball bat.

There are many, many cameras all around, not a single spot left with no surveillance. A couple of reflectors were put in the clearing, but the rest of the forest is pitch black, with no light in sight. This is a game of survival, and Arlo isn’t stupid enough to give them a chance to sneak their way out of it or hide in the forest, so he opted against giving them anything but a weapon of their choice.

I’m in the same position as the rest of the prey, on my knees, head hanging low. The only difference is that somehow, I managed to find a spot where the reflectors don’t cover, so it’s pitch black. The hoodie, my leggings, leather gloves, and my boots are all in a rich black shade. I even snatched a couple of Mom’s daggers in the same shade, carefully tucking them under my hoodie.

My face is covered with the hood, eyes locked on the ground. The game is going to begin in less than ten minutes, and I feel excitement start to ripple through me. It’s stimulating, consuming, and downright exhilarating. A smile is on my face, my fingers itching for the game to finally start. My heart is racing in my ribcage, the thrill overwhelming my bones.

I could’ve come as a hunter. However, their masks and clothes are made specifically for the event, and given how late I found out about the location, I wouldn’t have had the time to get the same for me. And if somehow I did get the clothes and the mask, Arlo would’ve tied me to a chair, just to ensure I’m nowhere near this place.

Which is why I’m here as prey.

Is this the smartest decision on my part? No, not even close.

The only other dumb decision like this one I can think of that falls into the same category would be when my best friend, Rose, admitted to having sex with a clown at a carnival. It was held yearly in New Orleans, and the carnival was adults only. In one of the terror houses, she met a clown, who looked fucking scary, and she ended up losing her virginity to him.

Come to find out, the blood on his clown mask was real because the motherfucker was a serial killer.

Oh, but it doesn’t end there, no, no.

The killings went on for three years, every single time on Halloween. Rose managed to convince me to go with her so she’d see him again, and I agreed. I actually agreed to go and help her find the serial killer she’d fucked once. Clearly, the dick was good; otherwise, I’ve no understanding as to why anyone in their right mind would do that.

Oh, it doesn’t quite end there, either.

When I took her to New Orleans last year for the carnival again, the bitch managed to get herself kidnapped by the clown. It took me two fucking weeks to find her, and when I did, I found out that the clown was someone we both knew.

That being said, the fact that I’m now acting as prey in the darkness, hoping Arlo’s keen senses haven’t picked up on me via the cameras, does slightly top the New Orleans shenanigans, not by a lot, though. The latter is still far more dangerous because we went to that fucking carnival blind. We had no idea what to expect or how things would turn out.

This one? I know exactly what will happen.

Sometime during the night, Arlo’s bound to discover me. But if I play my cards right, it will happen around dawn. Now, the games don’t exclusively last one night only. The previous one stretched for three nights, since one of the prey was sneaky as fuck and managed to successfully hide within the forest.

Arlo could’ve left him there; eventually, he would’ve died since the previous playground was also very tightly secured. But no, that would’ve meant that Arlo had to give up on something. My brother is many, many things, and the biggest one? He’s stubborn beyond belief.

Which is how I know that eventually, I’ll be discovered. However, I can stretch it out for a while and have some fun. I have enough time to prove that I deserve to be here, that I can be helpful, and that I’m genuinely perfectly capable of taking care of myself.

More than that — I want to show him that I’m a part of the De Santis family as much as he is. Just because he’s older doesn’t give him any right to constantly monitor me, dictate my life decisions, and treat me like a child. I love Arlo more than I love myself, but there are some things I’m no longer allowing him to do.

I take a deep breath, my hands clawing the dirt and grass below. The excitement doesn’t stop; if anything, it’s getting to the point of boiling over. The longer I wait for the game to start, the more I’m excited. Like a child on a sugar rush. Shivers and chills run down my spine, and all I can do is feel an overwhelming sense of frenzy, slowly rushing through my bloodstream.

Carefully, I lift my head upward and glance at the prey that are all on their knees, their weapons clutched in their hands. They’re silent. No one is daring to utter a single word, and they’re being awfully docile. Not that I dislike it, though I’m hoping they turn out to be an actual challenge, rather than just something I’ll get over with.

There are more men than women. Blair is always the one dealing with women, and I’ve seen it on cameras firsthand how she does it. Blair Hawke is one of the kindest, nicest souls I’ve ever met. From day one, when Arlo brought her home, I loved her. She’s exactly what Arlo needs, and Arlo is exactly what Blair’s been yearning for her whole life.

But when it comes to Kortlek, I don’t recognize her. It’s like all the rage that she’s been holding below surfaces, and it’s impossible to stop her until she’s dealt with all the women here. Her methods are sloppy, but she gets the job done and the message across. The fury is always left behind on the corpses. She’s not killing — she’s overkilling, and she’s enjoying it.

It’s the only time she allows the darkness to take control, and she lets go of all restraint. It’s the only time I can see her in her unapologetic, true form. She’s free, with no bounds grounding her. Her mind is one hell of a place, and I never wish to enter it or see what’s going on in there.

I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

On the other hand, Cove and Arlo deal with the men. There are thirty-two men; hence, Blair has six women to play with. The number is just right for her to have the time of her life. Which means I’ll take on a couple of men.

I’m not as arrogant as to believe I’d be able to take out thirty-two men on my own in a dark forest with no one to back me up. I’m well aware of my strengths and weaknesses, and killing all of them is impossible. But a couple of those bastards are mine. All I’m hoping is they put up a fight; otherwise it will be too plain, boring, and unworthy of my time.

And the inevitable punishment once I’m discovered.

My eyes flicker upward, and a slow, lazy smile forms on my face. The massive digital clock strikes zero, and it goes off. The prey all glance up, waiting for the inevitable to happen. Their anxiety reeks, and it only fuels my excitement.

Damn, I could get off on this.

My head goes back down again, careful not to be caught by the cameras. Perchance I am caught by Arlo; he won’t say it right now. He’d risk other prey coming straight at me, and no matter how pissed, he definitely doesn’t want me dead, so he’ll turn a blind eye momentarily until he can come, grab me, and tie me to a chair.

“Welcome, our dear prey,’’ a loud voice echoes in the otherwise silent clearing. There are many speakers all around, and it’s to ensure everyone can hear it. The voice itself is robotic, coming from a voice changer. Honestly, it’s creepy.

“You’re already familiar with the Kortlek game. You know exactly why you’re here, and you also know that unless you try your best, you’re not leaving this place alive,’’ the voice chuckles. It’s definitely Arlo — I know it by the way he’s speaking. His words hold hostility, venom, and pure rage, masked behind his deep chuckle.

“The rules are simple. You’re allowed to do whatever you wish with the weapons provided. Your goal is to kill the hunters. Kill them, and you’re free. Kill them or be killed. You are not allowed to kill other prey, and if you do, you’re disqualified,’’ he pauses momentarily. “That just means I’ll kill you myself.’’

There’s a slight pause for dramatic effect. I don’t have to look to feel their dread, their fears, and their anxiety. I bite my lip to prevent a moan of excitement from slipping. The metallic flavor fills my mouth, my tongue coated with blood. It tastes like the sweetest candy, and I’m slowly getting on that sugar rush.

I can hear someone crying, and it only makes me close my eyes. The overwhelming fury fills my body, and I can feel my hands trembling in anticipation. I squeeze them more, my hands digging into the wet ground under the grass. My body trembles, and I’m prepared to start running as soon as we’re allowed to.

“Without any further ado,’’ Arlo laughs menacingly, and I grin in return, “Kortlek can commence!”

A loud, chilling sound of sirens blasts around us, and as I lift my head up, I see that every prey is scrambling to their feet. Their weapons are in their hands, gripped tightly as if their lives depend on it — because they do.

They scurry every which way, some of them forming small trios or groups, going together into the forest. Neither one seems to be coming my way, though, and I can’t help but feel a pang of disappointment bloom in my chest.

Oh, well.

I rise to my feet, immediately finding one of the cameras that is set up on the reflector, high up. I remove the black mask off my mouth, pulling it down to my chin. I give the camera a gloved thumbs up, grinning widely before putting the mask back on. Mom and Dad are definitely watching, and if my predicament is right, Dad is currently fuming and Mom is acting innocent.

With that, I duck into the forest.

Let the Kortlek begin.