Page 30 of Stream & Scream

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Olivia

Sunday night.

T he first bullet shatters the window with a deafening boom, sending glass and chunks of rotting wood exploding inward like shrapnel from a grenade.

I scream as I dive behind the overturned desk that's been serving as my primary defense, heart slamming against my ribs. He’s not back yet. He’s not fucking back yet.

"Come out, come out," a deep male voice calls through the window frame. "Your new little boyfriend left hours ago, but he’s not back yet. Why is that? Did he forget about you already?"

Countless shots are fired through the door, and the old wood practically disintegrates. The bullets spray all around the room, whizzing past me, but none of them hit me.

My hands shake as I cling to the flare gun.

I have to buy myself more time. Just long enough for him to get back to me.

I aim the flare gun at the ceiling and pull the trigger.

The projectile launches with a sharp pop, trailing sparks and smoke as it pushes through the old ceiling, exiting into the sky above. Bright red light blooms outside the broken roof, painting the forest in hellish colors. It should be visible for miles.

Please see it. Please be close enough. Please care enough to come back for me.

Please .

"Smart girl," the voice outside says, and there's amusement in his tone that sends chills rolling through my body. "Calling for backup. Too bad your boyfriend's too busy playing with other toys to notice."

The new hunter’s psychological warfare hits its mark. He’s been watching the feed. He knows exactly what to say to throw me off. To make me question everything.

Is he really coming back? Or am I just another piece of his game that's been used up and discarded, another toy that's outlived its usefulness and can be left for other predators to dispose of?

No . I refuse to believe that. All of it was real and raw. It would have been impossible to fake.

He's coming. He has to be coming.

But until he arrives, I'm on my own.

More gunfire erupts, targeting the weak points in the ranger station. The barricaded windows explode inward one by one, sending furniture fragments and broken glass cascading across the floor.

I scramble from cover to cover, using the cabin's limited furniture to stay mobile while bullets easily chew through wood and metal like they're made of paper.

"You're only making this harder on yourself," the new hunter calls out, his voice closer now, maybe at the door. "I could make it quick and clean. But if you want to play games, I'm happy to drag this out."

Games. Like I'm reduced to nothing more than reality TV entertainment instead of a person fighting to live, like my terror and desperation are amusing.

I have to fight. I won’t die. Not like this.

What’s left of the door breaks under what sounds like a boot rather than a bullet, heavy and solid. Wood cracks, hinges scream, and suddenly there's a gap wide enough for someone to force their way through if they're willing to accept the cuts that come from squeezing past jagged edges.

Tossing the empty flare gun to the side, I grab the nearest weapon I can find—a broken piece of a mirror—and position myself where he won’t be able to see me right away. I hide in the shadows like The Hunter.

A gloved hand reaches through, feeling for the door handle.

I slash with the mirror fragment, dragging the sharp edge across knuckles and tendons with all the force I can generate from my awkward position. Blood spurts immediately, bright arterial red, and the hand jerks back with a curse that contains more surprise than pain.

"You fucking bitch!" The voice is louder now.

I’ve pissed him off.

The door explodes inward as he uses his shoulder to force entry. Furniture that I'd stacked as barriers goes flying, creating a chaos of debris and dust that fills the small space.

But through the dust, I see him.

He's not like The Hunter. Where The Hunter moves with a powerful and calculator manner, this man is all alpha energy and rage.

His face is hard, covered by scar tissue. His eyes are dark gray, and they’re haunting as he watches me.

But it's his smile that terrifies me most. Not the predatory grin that The Hunter wore when he was playing with me like a cat plays with a mouse, but something emptier. He lacks life. It’s like he’s dead inside.

"There you are," he says, stepping through the ruined doorway. "Been looking forward to this ever since I saw the footage of you and your boyfriend fucking on that rock."

"Fuck you," I spit, circling around the overturned desk while keeping the bloodied mirror fragment raised and ready.

His laughter is harsh and empty, lacking human emotion. "Sweetheart, your boyfriend's not coming back. Nobody's coming back. It's just you and me and however long I decide to make this last."

He lunges forward with speed that catches me off guard, moving faster than his bulk should allow, closing the distance between us before I can even move.

His hand closes around my wrist, the one holding the mirror fragment, applying pressure that makes my bones creak and my fingers spasm involuntarily.

The pathetic little weapon falls from my grasp, clattering across the floor and disappearing with the rest of the debris scatters throughout the room.

But I don't stop fighting.

I twist in his grip, using momentum and desperation to break free just long enough to grab something else—a chunk of broken wood with a pointed end that might break through skin if I can get a good enough swing in.

The makeshift spear takes him in the shoulder, penetrating skin and muscle with a wet sound that should be satisfying but mostly just makes me nauseous. He roars with pain and surprise, stumbling backward far enough to give me room to maneuver.

"You want to play rough?" he asks, reaching up to pull the wood fragment from his shoulder like it's nothing more than a splinter, barely even bleeding despite my best efforts. "Good. I was hoping you'd make it interesting."

The bullet takes me in the thigh.

I don't even see him draw the gun until fire explodes through my leg and dumps me onto the floor, crying out in agony.

The pain is immediate and overwhelming, radiating outward from the entry wound in waves that make it impossible to think straight. Blood flows freely, pooling all around me on the floorboards.

"That's better," he says, stepping closer. "Now we can have a real conversation about what's going to happen next."

I try to crawl away from him, using my hands to drag myself across a floor that's slick with my own blood, but the wounded leg won't support any weight and the pain makes it impossible to get far.

He catches me easily, one hand tangling in my hair while the other grabs my injured thigh with pressure that sends new agony lancing through my entire body. His touch is cruel and unforgiving.

"See, your boyfriend made a mistake," he says, dragging me upright and slamming my back against the cabin wall with enough force to knock the wind from my lungs.

"He thought he could play house, keep a pet, pretend this was something other than what it actually is.

But this is business, sweetheart. Always was and always will be. "

His free hand closes around my throat, cutting off air flow while leaving just enough circulation to maintain consciousness. Stars begin to dance in the corners of my vision as he raises me higher, leaving me dangling on the tips of my toes. He’s too fucking strong.

"I like watching the life leave someone's eyes," he whispers, his face close enough to mine that I can smell how foul his breath is. There’s excitement in his eyes. "That moment when they realize nobody's coming to save them."

The world starts going gray around the edges, consciousness fading as my brain begins shutting down non-essential functions to preserve whatever oxygen remains in my bloodstream. His face swims in and out of focus, that empty smile growing wider as he watches awareness leave my eyes.

This is it. This is how it ends.

I think of The Hunter as the darkness closes in. I never even knew his name.

The new hunter's grip tightens fractionally, and I feel myself slipping away completely. My vision tunnels down to a pinpoint of light surrounded by endless black, my thoughts becoming scattered and strange as my brain starts shutting down.

The last thing I see before the darkness takes me completely is that empty smile, those cold gray eyes, the face of a monster.

Then nothing.

Just the growing certainty that my consciousness is fading and my breath is stopping… That this ranger station in the woods will be the last thing I ever see.

But just as the final thread of awareness begins to snap, something crashes through the back window with enough force to shake the entire structure.