“Absolutely. You have to.”
“No,” she protests. “I have you as my personal driver.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, I can drop that. I won’t drop you finishing high school, though.”
Finally, we reach the building, and I enter the underground parking, making sure my spot is empty, before parking the car. Blair hops out of the car before I can utter a word, and I sigh, shaking my head in amusement.
She waits for me by the elevator. She’s impatient as hell, glaring at me, as if to silently tell me to move my ass quicker. During the ride up, she has this wide smile on her face, and I know it’s one of the things I want to protect. I want to see that smile every single day, for the rest of our lives.
The moment the door of the penthouse opens, Blair steps inside.
Aria, Dad, Mom, Freya, and a couple of other people from the organization jump out, greeting her loudly. The smile only widens on her face when she sees the decorations, the cake, and all the people who have shown up for her.
I linger behind, leaning against the wall, just observing the scene. Arson is sitting at the top of the piano, clearly pissed off that the place is crowded, but this entire scene is just proof that everything is finally over.
And we’re home.
THIRTY-FIVE
This piece of land is located in the forest just outside of the city. It belongs to Noelle and Hudson, and they had no issues giving us permission to use it tonight. It’s rather late, and it’s warm, yet not too hot. The weather is perfect for what we’re about to do.
Men and women alike are on their knees, right in the small clearing that Arlo had prepared for this. Every single one is holding a weapon of their choice tightly in their hands, and they’re being awfully docile. Considering the crimes they committed, I expected they’d put up more of a fight.
They’re all wearing matching clothes — black hoodie, black pants, and a pair of shoes. There’s a singular reflector that is very high, shining light right down on them. On the pole of thereflector is a big, digital timer, with a small speaker right next to it.
This is tonight’s playground, and we’re the hunters.
“Welcome, our dear prey,” Arlo’s loud, domineering voice rings in the forest, coming from the speaker. The prey all look up, and I see a hint of fear on their faces. “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. You are not allowed to kill other prey, because it will result in disqualification. That just means I’ll kill you myself. The moment the clock strikes midnight, the game begins,” I glance at my wrist-watch, and we’re a minute away from midnight. “You have till dawn. If you survive, you’ll be released.”
There’s a slight pause, and Arlo allows them to soak in the information. Then, with a deep chuckle, his voice echoes again. “Let the first annual Kortlek games commence.”
A loud, chilling sound of sirens blasts through the speaker, and every single one of them scrambles to their feet, gripping their chosen weapons and darts into the forest. Some try to be brave, and look for a way out, but there is a high fence that will electrocute them if they touch it, meaning they’re stuck inside. Every single jury member who didn’t listen to me, who didn’t believe me, and said I deserved life in prison – they’re all here, alongside other criminals that we found while planning this event. The judge is here, too. They’re all going to suffer, and I won’t stop until they’re all gone.
Arlo built this little underground bunker. It’s too small — barely fitting the four of us inside, a singular monitor to keep track of all the security cameras scattered around the playground.
“Do we move now?”
Arlo chuckles. “Not yet. Let them sweat a little.”
With a sigh, I slump to the floor, waiting for Arlo’s signal to leave the bunker. I made us all masks, and they’re fucking adorable. Cove despises them, though he doesn’t say it outright. Which is kind of why I made them in the first place.
They’re regular, full-face masks, in a matt shade of black. There are holes for eyes, and two small ones at the nose area. However, every mask is personalized to a degree. They all share the butterflies and the hearts that I drew in raging, neon sharpies. Arlo’s is blue, mine is pink, and Cove’s is red.
We’re all dressed in suits, too. Blazers, ties, white silk shirts, and dress pants. I’m not sure why, but this seems so fucking fitting for the occasion, and the fact that we’ve finally brought this idea to reality makes me giddy on the inside.
“Let’s go, Butterfly,” Arlo says, and I’m on my feet in a second.
He climbs up the ladder, then pulls me up with ease. I squeal, trying to prevent myself from salivating at the sight of Arlo in a suit with the mask on. Are the masks ridiculous? Absolutely. Yet, he manages to make them seem like the hottest thing ever.
“Cove will take the front side. Which one do you want?”
I turn to look at Arlo, raising my brow, even though he can’t see it. “You’re letting me do this on my own?”
He shrugs. “I trust your abilities and the playground isn’t that big, I’ll be right behind you.”
“So, you’re still going to follow me?”
“Yup.”
