Page 31

Nick stepped up behind him and shoved harder than he had with DeAndre. “Go on, champ.”

Kyle pitched forward with a startled yelp, tripping over his own feet. He hit the ground with a dull thud, and a strangled sob escaped him.

“This fucking pussy,” Cade muttered, skirting around Nick with Angela in hand.

Kyle glanced back, eyes wide, fresh panic blooming when he saw my brother coming toward him. That was all it took to get his punk ass moving. He scrambled to his feet and bolted.

“Damn,” Nick observed with a laugh, watching him go. “It’s almost like he’s got a guilty conscience.”

“Can we move on to the fun part now?” Rook asked. He was still standing closer to the truck, babysitting Lindsey so she didn’t try anything.

“Yeah, let’s do it.”

This time, Cade slid into the passenger seat, and Nick climbed into the back beside Rook; Lindsey was trapped between them.

I shifted gears and pulled straight into the field, switching my brights back on. It didn’t take but a minute to spot two shapes under the glare. DeAndre and Kyle turned, faces etched in terror, catching in the beams for half a second. Both started to run, zigzagging like it might matter.

“How do you wanna play it?” I asked them.

“I’m always up to practice my swing,” Cade replied, flexing his grip on Angela.

Adrenaline surged as I gripped the wheel tighter, closing the gap. “Who do we want at first pitch?” I called out over the sound of the engine.

“Go for Dre.”

I veered toward DeAndre, picking up speed. So did he, breaking into a sprint that came from sheer survival instinct. I loved seeing it. They’d made my girl run scared. It was only fair that they did the same.

“Boys hauling ass,” Nick laughed.

I angled the wheel and came up beside him.

“Batter up!” My brother swung.

DeAndre stumbled just in time. Angela whooshed past, catching nothing but air.

“Strike one!” Nick announced from the back, voice dropping into full sports-commentator mode.

A scream tore through the truck and was cut off just as fast by Rook’s hand clamping over Lindsey’s mouth. The other pinned her in place with calm, effortless strength.

“Wanna try again?”

My brother grinned, wild and sharp-edged. “Do you even need to ask?”

I laughed under my breath, wheeling the truck around in a wide arc.

DeAndre was still running, but I could tell he’d already reached his limit.

He glanced over his shoulder and cried out in fear.

The fact that he knew what was coming made everything better.

Cade leaned out the window, Angela gripped tight.

As we closed in, he swung again with full force.

The bat connected with DeAndre’s back with a brutal thud.

He folded instantly, crumpling to the ground like his bones had liquefied.

“Got him!” Cade whooped.

I didn’t let up.

With DeAndre down, it was Kyle’s turn to learn what being hunted felt like.

I cranked the wheel hard. The truck fishtailed across the uneven field before catching grip, lurching forward with violent purpose.

We cut across the terrain, headlights sweeping over churned soil until they locked onto him.

“Here we go!” Nick cheered.

Cade slapped Angela against his palm and took a breath, releasing it as we got closer.

Kyle’s limbs flailed, catching on tufts of tall grass and dips in the terrain, each step more desperate than the last. He clearly wasn’t built for athletics.

I eased the gas pedal down, closing the distance in seconds.

Kyle glanced back and tried to run harder, but his skinny frame betrayed him. He stumbled, almost going down.

“You got this, Cade,” Rook encouraged.

He leaned out the window, eyes trained on Kyle, his grip tight on the bat like it was an extension of himself.

I watched Kyle’s back curl, saw the panicked thrash of someone who knew they were already caught.

Cade swung, and this time he connected on the first swing. The bat cracked against Kyle’s shoulder, the hit drowned out by the truck, but his scream wasn’t. Neither was Lindsey’s as she tried and failed to fight against Rook’s hold. Kyle’s body hit the dirt face-first, folding like a rag doll.

“Home fucking run!” Nick called the play from the back.

I hit a U-turn and eased the truck into a rolling stop, headlights pinned on Kyle’s twitching frame. He was trembling all over, his face scrunched in agony as he tried to sit up. His good arm shook violently, struggling to lift him even an inch. In the back seat, Lindsey was full-blown sobbing.

“Please,” she whimpered. “You’ve made your point… please , just stop.”

“Stop?” I echoed slowly. “We’re just getting started.”

I eased off the brake, tapping the gas once, letting us coast forward. I didn’t pick the Denali package for this, but every upgrade I’d added to my build made this abrupt off-roading adventure a breeze. I would have to do it more often.

Kyle saw us coming and started dragging himself across the ground.

“Headshot,” I instructed my brother.

Cade leaned further out the window. “A bit more to the left.”

I corrected our angle, holding the wheel steady, and we closed in on Kyle. Angela whistled through the air, smashing into the side of his skull. A deep, hollow crunch echoed across the field. I hit the brakes, laughing as we slid to a stop again.

We sat in silence, watching him. Kyle jerked once. Twice. Then went still, limbs flopping limply. His head lolled at an unnatural angle, an indent oozing dark streams into the dirt.

“Perfection,” Rook murmured as if admiring a masterpiece.

“That’s a clean hit,” Nick agreed.

Cade’s grin stretched ear to ear, like he’d just clinched a championship. Lindsey, once choking on sobs, fell mute. Her hazel eyes glazed, fixed on Kyle’s shattered body, her lips moving without sound.

Rook leaned between the seats, peering through the windshield. “Think that’s enough?” he asked, feigning curiosity.

I stared at Kyle’s crumpled figure for a heartbeat longer, then lightly tapped the gas pedal.

The truck accelerated slowly, and I maneuvered it with precision over Kyle’s legs.

Though the cacophony of the engine masked much of the sound, I could feel the satisfying crunch of bone and flesh beneath us.

“Now he has,” I stated with an icy detachment.

Lindsey broke.

The sob she had been desperately holding back erupted from her throat like a long-suppressed scream, raw and primal.

She twisted away as if trying to disappear into the seat, her entire body trembling like it might splinter apart.

Rook grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her closer to him, his hand coming down over her mouth yet again.

“Stop fucking screaming,” he ordered calmly.

The look on her face was everything. She’d thought this was a game. They all had. I bet it didn’t feel so funny anymore. I turned the wheel, guiding the truck away from Kyle’s broken frame.

“What next?” Cade asked, still riding his post-hit high.

“DeAndre,” I said simply, scanning the field. “He’s still out here.”

It didn’t take long to spot him, staggering through the field, hunched over, his movements jerky and panicked.

“Cade.” I glanced over at my brother. “Why don’t we give Nick a shot?”

He nodded and passed the bat off with a flourish. “Let’s see what the hockey star can do off the ice.”

Nick took Angela with both hands and a cocky grin. “Please. I’m good at everything I do.” He leaned halfway out the window, tapping the bat once against the truck’s rubber foot mat like he was lining up for a slapshot. “Gimme some speed.”

I hit the gas.

The truck surged forward, headlights lighting him up like the target he was. “Ready?”

“I’m ready,” Nick confirmed, focus zeroed in.

DeAndre’s figure grew larger in the beams, every step a struggle, every breath probably burning in his chest. I adjusted the wheel, narrowing the angle just enough to line it up.

Nick swung—and missed.

“Are you kidding me?” he barked, nearly toppling from the window. “How the fuck did I miss? He’s running like his knees are on backwards.”

“Strike one,” Rook drawled, holding the back of Nick’s hoodie in one hand and Lindsey by the hair with his other.

Nick wasn’t the least bit discouraged. If anything, the miss fired him up. He rolled his neck and regripped the bat. “Alright, let me go again. Perfection takes time.”

My brother laughed. “Ego hurting, Nicky?”

“Suck my dick, Cadet.”

“Sorry, you aren’t my type.”

Nick grinned. “I’m everyone’s type once they get to know me.”

I chuckled and cranked the wheel again, the headlights cutting a new arc through the dark as we circled back.

“Line it up for me,” Nick urged.

I did as he said, knowing Nick wouldn’t miss a hit twice.

And he didn’t. Angela slammed into the back of DeAndre’s leg.

The scream that followed tore through the field, high and deliciously agonized.

He collapsed, folding at the knees and hitting the ground, arms reaching back toward the limb now bent in ways it shouldn’t be.

“You might be good with something besides a hockey stick after all.” My brother joked.

“Told you I’m a pro at everything,” Nick retorted, smug as ever as he handed Angela back with a flourish.

I let the truck idle, creeping forward until we were right behind DeAndre. His sobs were louder now, cutting through the night and blending with the low, steady growl of the engine.

“Time to grab our trophy.” I shoved open the door and stepped out, the cold air scraping over my skin. Around the front of the truck I went, boots crunching over dry grass.

DeAndre was wrecked.

Streams of spit hung from his chin, tears and snot were all over his face, and each breath was a wet, rattling gasp. I crouched beside him, close enough that he had no choice but to look at me. His eyes were wild, pain-glossed, and frantic.

Perfect.

“Ouch.” I reached out and pressed my fingers straight into the break in his leg. He screamed, one hand slapping uselessly at the ground. “Oh, I’m sorry. Does that hurt?” I pressed deeper, feeling the slick give beneath my fingertips.

The second scream was louder, raw and hoarse, tearing through the field. When he turned his head and vomited into the dirt, I flinched back, grimacing at the stench and what looked like half-digested tortilla chips.

“Ew,” Cade groaned from the truck window. “Fucking disgusting.”

“Alright,” I said, standing. “Let’s get you off the ground.”

DeAndre shook his head, babbling through choked sobs. “No—no, please, man—don’t—.”

I grabbed him under the arms and hoisted him up. He was dead weight, one leg dragging uselessly. His hands pushed weakly at my chest, but there was no real fight left in him.

“Quit struggling. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

He whimpered and sagged against me, the last of his resistance draining out.

Nick and Cade hopped out and met me halfway, flanking us on either side without a word.

Together, we manhandled him to the truck and shoved him inside, right on top of Lindsey.

She shrieked, scrambling away like he was contagious, launching herself onto Rook’s lap.

“Damn, that was mean,” Nick chastised mockingly.

Rook looped an arm around her waist to keep her still. “She upgraded. Got the better seat.”

DeAndre slumped, panting through clenched teeth, his skin sallow and slick with sweat.

We all climbed in. Cade slid into shotgun again, Angela resting across his lap like a crowned jewel.

“Let’s wrap this up.” I shifted and turned us back toward the Genesis. Its silhouette sat alone in the distance, shrouded in moonlight, quiet and waiting.

In the rearview mirror, I checked on our passengers.

DeAndre’s eyes were shut tight, Lindsey was still crying, silent now, and curled against Rook like she thought he was some kind of savior. Cade caught it too and laughed. “No fucking way you think he’s gonna save you.”

Rook’s lips twitched as he fought a smile, and his arm tightened around her. “Don’t ruin all my fun.”

I chuckled, knowing that the worst part of her night hadn’t even started yet.