A red flare hissed in the distance. Then another. Then a third.
They were leading me somewhere.
I followed the trail, muscles coiled and ready. The air grew colder the deeper I went, the scent of lake water sharp in my lungs.
Halfway there, a distorted scream exploded through my earpiece.
“Max! Max, please! Save me!”
I froze. My heart stopped.
“Mackenzie?”
“Max, please! He’s coming! Please save me!”
I started running. Branches tore at my arms, shadows bleeding into motion around me.
“Trouble!” I shouted. “Trouble! Where are you?!”
Her voice looped in my ear.
“Max, help me! Please help me!”
Over and over, louder, and closer, her voice tortured me. She was right ahead, and everywhere.
Each scream splintered deeper under my skin until I couldn’t tell what was real anymore. Had they taken her? Was this a trick?
Her voice hit another pitch. It was raw, broken, and pleading.
And it shattered me.
It was torture. I wasn’t running anymore; I was sprinting through hell to get to her.
I stumbled into the clearing. Moonlight skated across the lake. In the center, strapped to a chair, was Jackson.
He looked like someone had used his face as a punching bag. There were purple and black bruises mottled on his skin, one eye swollen shut. His white shirt was dark with blood; red grooves marked his wrists where zip ties had bitten in. His left arm was fucked. A deep, jagged gash split through his forearm, crudely wrapped in blood-soaked gauze. It looked like someone had taken a chainsaw to it. He was pale as a ghost, sweat beading across his brow.
The voice in my ear came cold and clinical. I flinched.
“This is your trial, Mr. McKinnon. Kill him, or she dies.”
I went rigid, then began to pace the bank, the bat a heavy metronome in my hands. Jackson lay slumped, out cold, until the voice cut in again.
“What are you waiting for? Eliminate the target!”
My hands trembled around the bat.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathed.
The voice started counting. “Ten… nine… eight…”
I had thought about killing Jackson several times, but now that the opportunity was here, I couldn’t do it.
On the last syllable,one, Jackson’s head lolled up.
He blinked, then stared into the eyes of my mask,as if he could see straight through it. He knew it was me. I could see the recognition all over his face.
A slow, ugly grin crawled across his blood-streaked mouth.
