He leans down from his imposing height to see me better through his scowling skull mask.
My body seizes for a fraction of a second as I look death in the face.
Instinctually, I slash at him with my knife. Steel whistles through empty air as he dodges effortlessly. But I use my chance to scramble to my feet and bolt, skidding in the dirt.
His wicked laughter reverberates in my ear as an arm slams around my waist like a steel trap and yanks me backward. I kick my legs, a scream tearing through my throat as I’m smashed into his hard chest.
“Gotcha,” he murmurs, his breath ghosting over my ear.
I twist my arm up, trying to stab at him again. But he catches my wrist and twists until pain explodes through my arm. I cry out, and the knife clatters to the ground.
He carries me like I weigh nothing, despite my kicking and flailing.
Adjusting his grip, he pins my arms to my sides as he carries me back to the other two, his free hand covering my mouth, muffling my screams.
“Look what I found, boys,” his deep voice draws the attention of the others away from the burning husk that used to be a man. That voice perfectly matches his skull mask. It drips with the threat of death.
As they turn to face us, my breath catches.
The tallest one is shirtless, a wall of brutal muscle with scars slashed all over, warning of the lethality of the men I’m faced with.
What I thought was a hood on his head, is actually a stitched burlap sack like something out of a nightmare. His head tilts at the sight of me like a predator assessing prey.
The other stands stoically, watching me through a red Oni mask, lips pulled back in a sharp-toothed snarl. His black shirt strains across his huge chest, tattooed arms folded and muscles twitching.
I kick out at the nightmare with the sack mask as he steps closer, panic rising in my throat like bile. He steps back and laughs like my struggle is amusing.
I cannot go down like this!
“Seems we had a little audience,” the Oni Devil chuckles.
“She looks so fragile,” the Nightmare murmurs, voice soft and chilling.
I shoot a scathing look his way.
Fragile? Fragile?!
I’m literally kicking and screaming, fighting for my life. And he sees fragility?
“When was the last time you saw a woman, boys?” I can hear the grin in the voice of the guy holding me.
Death.I’m literally in the clutches of death, aren’t I?
Screaming into his hand again, I shake my head, trying to loosen his grip. But his fingers tighten over my face and his low laughter vibrates through me.
“Let’s keep her for a bit. Imagine all the games we could play…” Death’s voice wraps around my spine like a noose.
My pulse quickens at his suggestion, and I go still. Not calm—paralysed. My mind fractures between memory andthe situation I’m currently faced with. I’d rather they kill me now then be a prisoner again.
“Fuck no! That’s another mouth to feed!” the Devil growls.
“Doesn’t look like she’d eat much,” Death shrugs, still holding me like a ragdoll. I flail again but it’s useless. His grip doesn’t even loosen.
“She’s tiny,” the Nightmare says, examining me as if his eyes can taste me.
“She’s trouble,” the Devil snaps.
“Come on. Let me keep her,” the skull-masked creep persists, dipping his face into the crook of my neck and breathing in deeply. “Her fear smells delicious.”
