CHAPTER THREE

My Sunshine, so sweet and trusting.

As her delicate fingers latched onto my shirt, a twisted satisfaction surged through me. She was placing her faith in a monster and I fucking reveled in it. It was as intoxicating as her very presence.

There was nothing in this entire fucking city she had to fear. I needed her to know—to remember—that I would protect her with every fiber of my being. Not out of any noble sentiment, but because she belonged to me just as much as I belonged to her.

It was primal. Instinctual.

I had already made the grave mistake of allowing her to be taken from me once. It would never happen again.

Leaving the syringe behind was a calculated move, a message to 'them.' Whoever they thought they were dealing with, whatever power they thought they had over us, I was determined to show them just how wrong and delusional they were. Their days of playing God were numbered, and I would make sure they begged for death soon enough.

Without a word exchanged, Grace and I made our way out the door. Her presence a constant weight on my mind, reminding me of what I stood to lose.

"What's happening? Have we been discovered?" She shouted over the blaring siren, looking up at me questioningly .

"A final commencement." I reached out and thumbed a strand of her silky hair. It cascaded over her shoulders in messy waves, a blend of sunlit blonde and golden hues that framed her pretty face perfectly.

Her furrowed brow. "What does that mean?"

It was a ruthless culling of the weak and a fierce initiation into an eagerly anticipated bloodbath. In other words, my kind of fun. But she had no need to concern herself with such details. Liliana and Mel's approach was perfectly timed, their sharp eyes assessing the proximity between myself and their friend. They were one of the few variables in Sunshine's orbit that I allowed to exist. If either of them was to be taken away, Gracelynn would lose some of her light.

It helped that both women had more than heads full of air; intelligent and cunning, valuable allies in this game of manipulation and power. With them near I could temporarily move away. I dropped my hand and smoothed my palm down Sunshine's back, needing the connection before I stepped aside.

The moment I was out of the way their heads came together like a huddle of warriors. A twinge of gratitude coursed through me, knowing that their bond was as strong as the one I shared with my brothers—who had their own connections with them. I'd silently vowed to protect both women with the same ferocity I would my sister, had she ever needed it. Of course, such situations never arose.

After being duped into her time on the show, Kennedy's legendary status within the Devil's Playground had rapidly grown. We often compared our body counts with old-fashioned sibling rivalry, realizing that her numbers almost matched mine. I couldn't be prouder, knowing that she was just as ruthless and deadly as any man that thought to fuck with her and could hold her own just as well—if not better.

My attention shifted to the task at hand.

The others were already in motion, their movements efficient and purposeful. We had minutes to make everything burn. I wordlessly joined in and together, we moved through the expanse of the warehouse, gathering perishables and discarded clothes. All the items that we couldn't carry with us and refused to leave for anyone else. Everything was piled into the makeshift receptacle. Once it was ready, my brother wheeled the barrel over to where the dismantled Mustang loomed.

It was almost a shame to make such a machine go up in flames. It reminded me of my own, only lacking the memories. Ciaran dropped a duffel bag filled with our masks at our feet, each one a symbol of our anonymity and solidarity. With his blue eyes meeting ours in turn, he asked the question that had only one correct answer: "Everyone ready?"

"You know I was born ready," Maverick replied with a wild grin, quickly donning his black and green mask.

Following suit, my brother rolled his shoulders. I could see the fire burning in his eyes. "Let's give them a performance they'll never forget."

When their gazes shifted to Dion, his expression was stoic and determined. "I'm with you," he stated firmly, betraying none of the nerves he must have been feeling. His commitment, despite being thrown into this maelstrom of madness, earned him respect from each of us. Hope he felt the same when he realized I had turned his girlfriend into a fleshless centerpiece. It wasn't personal, she simply didn't meet the qualifications to be one of us.

Then there was Brody. We didn't need to ask him; we knew his stance. His answer was always the same as mine, unspoken but understood.

With our intentions set and our roles reaffirmed, each mask was donned with a practiced hand, our alter egos in this immersive game. Ciaran's hand extended towards Dion, offering a mask unlike any of the others --matte black with orange accents. Without a word, Dion accepted and slid it over his face. My own mask was a stark depiction of my soul - white and black, with an inverted cross at its center - a reminder of my past and how far I had come from the person I used to be, often wondering why my mind didn't work like any others. I embraced that difference now largely because of this.

Slipping it on, a fleeting thought crossed my mind. What would life be like without it? I quickly dismissed the thought. This mask was a part of me. I would never part with it. I was certain that even when this season was over, it wouldn't be the end. The Game, this show, would still go on.

"I'll light everything up, you guys' head for the exit," Brody stated, already walking toward the barrel and Mustang.

I went straight to where the girls were standing. We'd had their full attention the moment Ciaran opened the duffel bag.

"Time to go, Sunshine," I said, my voice low but firm. She needed to be away from the flames, away from the smoke and the heat. Her safety was paramount, always.

Ciaran moved past me and positioned himself in front of Liliana. "Don't do anything reckless out there, Puppet," he cautioned tauntingly.

She rolled her eyes and pushed his hand away from her face. "I'm already being reckless by sticking with you."

"Some may say that is the wisest decision you've ever made." He patted the top of her head and turned away, oblivious to the annoyed look she shot at him.

Dion moved closer, falling into the role he'd been assigned in the past few minutes. It wouldn't be a hardship for him to stick with the women. He'd been surprisingly quick in endearing himself to them. I knew he had remembered too.

"What are we waiting for?" my brother asked, lingering a few feet away from us.

"He has yet to strike the match."

"Come on, Ky. You could've just said Brody isn't ready," Maverick deadpanned.

"He is now." I looked over at the Mustang as it went up in flames along with the barrel.

"Let's go," Ciaran called over the siren.

Our group moved as a single entity, positioning Melantha and Dion in the center.

"Stay close," I murmured to Grace as I passed her, my voice a slightly distorted growl through the mask.

Ciaran and I took the lead, with Lilianna and Grace right behind us.

Maverick took one side of the outer ring, Brody the other as he caught up with us, leaving Charon to watch our backs.

We'd meticulously planned our path well before this moment, and I felt a twisted anticipation at the prospect of unleashing havoc on anyone who dared stand in our way. As we emerged from the warehouse, the deafening boom of an explosion shook the ground beneath us. I didn't need to look back to know that the Mustang had met its fiery demise.

The heat on my back and the rumbling beneath my feet were enough confirmation. Outside, chaos reigned supreme. The hands of the clock tower spun wildly as if trying to keep up with the frenzy that had consumed the city. Masked figures darted through the streets, their movements swift and lethal, permanently disqualifying anyone unfortunate enough to cross their paths.

The panicked cries and desperate scattering of the unprepared were like music to my ears. My fingers twitched over where I had concealed my curved blade, an extension of my family name, Vetis.

I took it all in as we moved forward. Some contestants showed potential, like a curvy woman and a shorter man who had overpowered an overconfident girl with a bloody butterfly mask on her face. She'd been a new recruit to the games, earning a spot only a few months ago. Someone else would fill it come tomorrow. The Playground was never short of killers.

"This is insane!" Lana's voice rose above all the noise.

"This is nothing," I reasoned, my words nearly lost amidst the cacophony of screams and sirens.

"Does that sound ever stop?" Grace's voice reached me, a thread of frustration woven into her question.

"It will, just a little longer," my brother's voice carried from behind.

Suddenly, Maverick moved with lethal precision, intercepting the fool that had been waiting for us between two storefronts. There was some type of self-made weapon in his grasp, a round object with long skinny spikes. Maverick grabbed the man by his throat with one hand, and his wrist with the other, twisting hard enough that he was able to take possession of the man's weapon and use it against him, cleaving the spikes into the side of his head.

An unmanly sound came from beneath the golden fox mask. I couldn't fully enjoy it because of the siren, but I was able to witness his blood expelling. Maverick released the man's throat and let him pitch to the side, moving away before his body hit the ground. He gave us a thumbs up as he rejoined our group, keeping an eye out for any other potential attackers.

The distinctive roar of a motorcycle tore through the air, the sound striking a familiar chord within me. It was my prized bike, a beast of a machine gifted by my adoptive father after I had willingly thrown myself into the Playground for the fourth time. There was a purpose to those victories, a story etched in blood and resolve. I'd share it with Sunshine soon. I could feel her behind me, exactly where I needed her to be if she couldn't stand at my side.

"I can't believe you let him ride it of all people. You never let me drive. I feel a little hurt, Ky," Maverick commented.

"You can barely ride a pedal bike, Mav," Ciaran countered, causing Lana to look over at Maverick with raised brows.

"I have a heavy foot," he defended himself.

"You don't press down on bike pedals," Lana pointed out.

"He's full of shit," Charon interjected with a laugh.

"He won't bring her back with a single scratch," I reminded Maverick yet again.

He and I had this conversation three times already. Raphael had done more than enough to prove he was loyal to us over the years. If he hadn't my sister would have killed him herself. She had two other men in her bed to make up for his absence should he ever be caught lacking.

"How do you know he won't spin out or something?" Maverick countered.

"I promised each mark I found would cost him a piece of flesh."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just realized how much I'd rather not ride your bike."

"I miss Twisty," Brody lamented loudly, his voice heavy with longing for his own prized vehicle.

"What's that?" Sunshine asked.

"My truck. You've seen it."

Melantha's head swiveled in his direction. "That thing is yours?"

"Yeah. She's pretty sweet, right?"

"Is that a pun?" she asked with a frown.

I chuckled. Brody's ice cream truck was tucked away under the watchful eye of his father. His old man was doing what he could from the sidelines, helping his son from the shadows without drawing attention to himself from the opposing side of the Infernal Syndicate.

It was a delicate balance, aligning his silent loyalty with the legacy of our families as they worked diligently to set the final stage of the show--Ciaran's, mine, and Maverick's among a few others—some of Lana's. In this world where trust was as scarce as safety, such gestures didn't go unnoticed or unappreciated.

Maverick's response was lighthearted as always. "Don't worry, you'll have plenty of alone time with Twisty when we win this."

Shaking her head, Melantha muttered something under her breath and refocused on walking a straight line. I'd taken note of her method of distraction within minutes of us leaving the warehouse. She was in pain but wouldn't show it. That earned her a kernel more respect from me.

My gaze shifted, scanning our surroundings. "Nine o'clock," I called out, spotting a blonde making a beeline for us. Her desperation was palpable. I considered extending a helping hand as she neared. We would need fodder for later on. A flicker of possessiveness held me back. Sunshine wouldn't approve of me touching other women, and I couldn't bear the thought of another woman's touch mingling with hers. So, when the girl reached us, I did the only thing that was right--I kicked her away.

The despair that clouded her features as she flew back was well worth the choice I'd made. She had spotted Lana, Sunshine, and Melantha with us and made the fatal mistake of thinking her life held the same weight as theirs.

"You bastard!" she shrieked at me as she stood up, turning to flee when she saw Raphael hit a U-turn.

I wondered what made her think she could outrun the machine built for hunting. He caught up to her within seconds, his hand catching her by the back of the head. Her screams echoed through the street as she was dragged mercilessly, her clothes tearing and shredding from the pavement beneath her, leaving a trail of fabric and blood in her wake.

"What the hell was that?" Lana yelled.

"You didn't have to do that." Sunshine's voice was laced with disapproval.

It was enough to prick my nerves.

I reached for her hand, relaxing when she didn't pull away, proving she wasn't too upset with me.

"Puppet, do you have some flawed misconception of us? We aren't heroes."

"That doesn't mean we can't help people, Ciaran."

"When I need a few people to kill off to keep you safe, I'll let you collect a couple strays."

I nodded in silent agreement. That's what we needed, expendables. Lana's reply was cut off when he pivoted sharply, moving down a side alley. The narrow space got us out of the open, but that didn't stop any of the foolish from pursuing. Someone silently descended from above, utilizing the fire escape to his advantage. The sound of metal scraping against concrete alerted us to another figure cutting off our path at the front. They'd been tracking us—how fun.

I recognized them.

We let them think they were our former allies in a previous season, and they bought every bit of the pitch we sold them. They'd most likely been sent to test us now. I found that insulting. Ciaran wasted no time, swiftly retrieving his push dagger from his boot sheath.

"Stay behind me, Puppet," he commanded, his eyes never leaving the approaching figures.

"You could have given me a weapon too," she complained, but obeyed, nonetheless.

With fluid precision and years of training, Ciaran dispatched the first man with ease. My brother was quick to cover Melantha alongside Brody, while Mav and Dion watched our backs, facing the way we had come from. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I faced the second dead man trying to move up on the side.

I pulled out Vetis, my modified Kukri. Those few seconds almost cost me. The corpse swung a small throwing axe in my direction, the blade missing me by less than an inch. With a grin, I lunged forward and struck back with my fist, cracking the mask covering his face. He stumbled backward, but quickly regained his footing just as I buried my curved metal deep inside him, relishing the pained croaking sound that escaped his lips.

I twisted the handle, pushing it even deeper into his body. "Does it hurt?" I taunted, watching as he weakly grabbed my wrist in a futile attempt to stop me. "No?" I tilted my head and gave a violent jerk, splitting him open from gut to sternum. Blood gushed out, coating my knuckles and fingers in a sticky red sheen. "Does it hurt now?" I pressed the blade even further into his flesh as he keened in agony.

"Just kill me," His broken voice pleaded through bloody coughs, spitting crimson droplets.

Sunshine's honeyed voice echoed in my mind, urging me to end his suffering. I didn't want to hear that. Who the fuck was he to elicit such compassion from her? With a vicious snarl, I yanked my Kukri out and plunged it into his throat again and again until the tip of my blade slammed into the brick wall behind him. I wiped it clean on his shirt, sheathed the weapon, and then stepped back to watch his lifeless body slump to the ground.

A pool of blood seeped from his mangled gut and throat like a beautifully grotesque final breath. I toed his head with my boot. Fucking pathetic. Seldom could the hunters handle being hunted. The encounter was brief, ending as quickly as it began. No more came for us from either direction.

It was evident that most had been giving us a wide berth, their reluctance to engage a mix of fear and perhaps, in some way, support. The two now dead lacked the same instinct for self-preservation.

"Are you okay?"

I turned to face her. In that moment, I saw red. My hands clenched into fists, knuckles turning white with suppressed rage. She shouldn't have asked me to stop. He deserved what he got, and then some.

"Ky, it's cool. He's dead now. Extra dead," Maverick joked to cover up the dangerous energy radiating off of me.

He knew. She didn't.

Her friends were beginning to understand. I felt their eyes on me—on us. They didn't intervene as fast as they had before. As I thought, they weren't just pretty faces. They'd caught on just as quickly all those years ago when I decided to make this beautiful girl mine by any means necessary.

"What's wrong?" she inched closer and placed a hand on my arm.

Her touch was soothing. I made sure it remained above the blood coating my hands. She didn't need this filth on her perfect, soft skin. "Just a bit let down," I admitted with a shrug, quietly exhaling and counting back from six. "Don't do that again."

Her brow pinched in confusion, but there was no need to elaborate. I could show her better than explain. With the immediate threats neutralized, we continued down the alley. As we neared the end, the siren abruptly cut off. Ciaran stopped in his tracks, casting a long shadow in the moonlight as he turned back to address us.

"Game will be fully live within five minutes. If we want to continue on our makeshift path, there's no time to waste. Keep moving and don't look back. Anyone suicidal enough to stand in our way will be dealt with."

He looked over at Melantha.

"Can you keep up?" he asked confidently, fully aware of her capabilities.

Her response was firm and resolute, her voice steady despite the pain she was undoubtedly feeling. "I won't allow myself the option not to."

That's when Dion chimed in, his words overlapping Brody's offer, "I'll make sure she doesn't fall behind."

Charon's laughter echoed through the alley as he acknowledged their combined determination. Ciaran nodded in approval, "Then it's settled."

None of us questioned him or his decisions. This unspoken agreement, our silent hierarchy, had been established since we were young boys. Ciaran, my brother, Maverick, and Brody were the core of our unit, growing stronger with every obstacle we faced.

In the world we lived in, trust was scarce, and alliances often teetered on deceit. The bond between us was our greatest weapon and shield. It may not have been by blood, but it was just as vital and significant as the one I shared with my twin. At the heart of it all was Ciaran, who possessed a strategic mind, physical strength, and an unparalleled understanding of each of our strengths and weaknesses.

His attention returned to Lana, a silent communication passing between them. "Puppet?" he extended his bloodied hand toward her.

Lana's hesitation lasted but a heartbeat before her fingers wrapped around his with no comment on the blood now coating her too. The sight triggered a memory, a reminder of the night she had pledged her loyalty, and her hand had clasped Ciaran's as they made a vow. She bore it in the form of a scar, as did he.

A similar scar marked the skin of my own hand, a physical token of an unbreakable promise.

I looked down at Sunshine and saw she was staring at what lay beyond the alley. I wanted to touch her, to reassure her, but my hands were still stained. I wasn't like Ciaran. I'd sooner flay my fucking flesh than sully hers with another's essence. Silently, I reached into my hoodie and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves I'd only just remembered I had, slipping them on to shield her from a tainted touch. The only blood allowed on her was mine and when the mood allowed, hers.

With the filth now covered, I gently took her hand, the leather a barrier between us I loathed, but not enough to diminish the connection I felt. "This is the part where we play again," I told her, my voice low.

It was a new phase, a deeper dive into the game.

Right about now final bets were being placed while others cursed themselves for putting bids on a contestant that had just been killed off. Our group was going to make someone very wealthy. There was no doubt we would win this. It was simply a matter of determining how we'd win and how many would die along the way.