The metallic stench of blood will soon overpower it all.
Two minutes twelve seconds.
I push away from the car.
Two minutes thirteen seconds.
Small twigs break under my heavy combat boots.
Two minutes fifteen seconds.
I rip the bag off Jensen’s head.
Two minutes seventeen seconds... the music no longer seeps from the discarded headphones, lying on dead leaves, but blares from my phone instead.
The beat slows, the bridge kicks in and it’s show time.
His eyes find my face and immediately widen, round like silver dollars. His face turns ashen, so pale his lips look blue.
I bet he’s recalling what I told him last week in the cafeteria, and that night on the boat platform.
“Try your luck, see what happens.”
He tried and now he’ll see.
By the look of him, he regrets not listening. Too little, too late. He has sixty-three seconds before his bones start breaking.
I’ve got this down to a T.
I want his screams piercing the silence while “Amsterdam” plays in the background. I want his fear mingling with his memories of Hailey. I want him to be scared senseless of so much as glancing in her general direction.
It’s called classical conditioning. He’ll associate Hailey with excruciating pain once I’m done. That’s if I let him walk out of here alive.
I’m back and forth about it.
He gasps and starts thrashing against the restraints as soon as I angle my head further into the light so he can be fucking sure who brought him here.
It’s particularly beautiful tonight... the chaos.
The awaiting carnage.
Or maybe I’m loving this more than I’ve loved my previous evenings in the middle of nowhere with crimson blood fertilizing the ground beneath some flimsy wooden chair or other.
This metal contraption Jensen sits in is a welcome upgrade.
“I considered you smarter,” I say, recalling the detailed but thin file Ryder sent me after I told him the security footage from the parking lot needed wiping. “A four-point-six GPA, IQ of one hundred and forty-five... I’d expect a man with your brains to understand that ignoring a threat from a man like me is unwise.” I yank the gag out of his mouth.
“What the fuck is going on?! Where am I?”
“You know exactly what’s going on.”
“Hailey?” he sputters, struggling against the thick leather bands. “You’re fucking insane!”
“Probably. No one ever had me tested, but coming to that conclusion when I told you to stay the fuck away from my girl would’ve saved you from this predicament. But you ignored what I said and now you’ll—”
“You’ll beat me up because I danced with her?! She’s not your property, man! She can do whatever she wants!”
That’s a plausible argument. I shouldn’t disagree. I shouldn’t feel territorial about the cute blonde... but I do.
