Page 170 of Scavenger's Oath

There’s silence between us, thick and hot. I feel sweat at the base of my spine. Bennett thinks he’s a shepherd. But he’s just another predator. And he’s about to learn what it means to be prey.

Phoenix thumbs the safety off with a sharp click. “We do it clean. Three points, pushing in, no noise, no escape. No mess until we hit the house.”

“There was a scout on the north ridge,” I say flatly. “Took him out ten minutes ago. Two more coming down the track. Myles got them before they could yell.”

Phoenix’s knuckles whiten around his gun. “Then we’re clear to move in.”

“No survivors,” Myles growls, pulling his mask back over his face.

I look up at the farmhouse. Weathered clapboard, sagging porch, no lights in the windows. These guys don’t even have electricity.

“I don’t care how many there are,” I growl. “We’ll stack the bodies to the roof.”

Phoenix turns to us, his voice sharp. “She’ll be in the house. Cover every door, I don’t want any of them getting away.”

He doesn’t know that for sure. But he wants it to be true. We all do.

My fingers curl around the chainsaw handle, sweat dripping down my forehead under the thick material of my mask. “Then let’s tear the house down.”

Phoenix gestures with his chin. “Take the left. I’ll circle fromthe east. Myles—”

“I know,” Myles cuts in. “Straight down the fucking middle.”

We split without another word, slipping into the dusk, becoming one with the shadows. The wind rustles the grass, and I hear the distant laugh of one of the men on the porch.

I don’t smile, but something inside me grins.

They have no idea what’s coming.

Every man I cut down tonight will be an offering laidat her feet.

Chapter 56

Ivy

The barn reeks of sweat, rot, and blood.

Flies cluster at the edges of the hay where old gore has gone black, their wings whispering in the old stable with a constant drone. The air tastes of mouldy feed and burned hair, every inhale dragging up memories I’ve attempted to bury.

My feet barely touch the ground, the support beam above creaking under my weight. The course rope around my wrists scratching at already raw skin as I hang here, tendons straining.

But I can’t even cry anymore. My body is beyond that.

Cold clings to my naked body like wet cloth, useless against the burn across my back.

The leather strap whistles through the air again, splitting the atmosphere before it finds skin. My muscles seize with every strike, stealing my breath, but I can’t scream anymore. Voice ash in the wind. Gone.

A vile combination of smells stings my nose. Sweat splatters off Bennett’s arm and dots my back, stealing my breath as the sting from the salt blossoms into a heat like molten metal under my flesh.

The pain sinks deep in my marrow. My back is a ruin of welts, blood slicking down in crooked paths.

Ache. Exhaustion. It all hums beneath my skin like static.

“Gone quiet finally?” Bennett taunts. “Getting used to the punishment, hmm? Or just giving up?”

Circling in front of me, strap in hand, his fingers twitch to use it again. He’ll never be satisfied—despite the bulge in his pants.

“I was enjoying your screams,” he mocks as he shakes the fatigue from his arm. “Now look at you. It’s like beating a corpse.”