Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Hals

W hat the ever-loving fuck is going on?

This night has gone to hell in a handbasket.

Before us are the three bitches we’re destined to marry if our fathers have anything to do with it. Exactly where they shouldn’t be.

We’re fucking dead. The only good part is we still have our masks on.

“What the fuck?” Our eyes dart around the clearing as we gaze upon the three women. They are on the ground, gagged, with their hands and feet bound with rope. Black streaks from their makeup mar their faces. No doubt they’ve been crying for a while since getting in the predicament they’re in.

A small part of me is taking great joy in the sight, but our fathers will be pissed about this turn of events. The girls struggle against their ropes, and I wonder if they think we’re their salvation or worst nightmare.

I take a step toward them to release them, before halting in my steps. A figure dressed all in black, wearing an old-fashioned drama mask, steps from behind a tree. Maroon coats the mask, no doubt dried blood from the looks of the stained butcher knife in their gloved hands.

“Who the fuck are you?” I growl in anger, my jaw clenched. My fist clenches tighter on the handle of the cleaver. All I see is red, and I want to end this fucker.

The figure doesn’t speak, just steps up behind where Ellie sits, bound and gagged on the ground.

“What’s the fun in telling? Do you really not know?” The distortion in the voice tells me the person is using some type of electronic device to corrupt it. I wish I had something to help identify this bastard. But the hoodie covers the asshole’s head, the fit of the clothing tells me nothing, and I can’t see this cocksucker’s hands because of the gloves.

“How the fuck are we supposed to know who you are with a damn mask on?” Jonas stands beside me, anger lacing his words.

This unknown person moves quickly, yanking Ellie's hair, pulling her head back, and pressing the blade of the knife against her neck.

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours,” the son of a bitch taunts.

I step forward, ready to end this shit, but Ellie’s whimpering grows louder, and I feel Jensen grip my arm. “Don’t,” he hisses.

“You should listen to him. I wouldn’t move closer. Not unless you want her to die. But seeing how none of you want to marry these whores, anyway, I doubt anyone would mourn her death.”

How the fuck does this asshole know this?

“There’s no point in this masquerade,” the prick says. “You may as well let these bitches see your faces.”

“What’s—” It’s then I see the blade piercing Ellie’s skin, as a slow stream of blood falls. I don’t know why I comply, but I grip my mask with one hand and pull it off, the guys doing the same. The twisted part of me wants to laugh at the girls’ muffled, desperate pleas to save them when they see us.

“Your issue is obviously with us. Why not let them go?” Jonas speaks up, trying to be diplomatic.

“You just want me to let them go, because you asked? Hmm, let me think about that.”

We stand there, unsure of what’s about to happen. The asshole pulls the knife away from Ellie’s neck and we let out a small sigh of relief, only for our eyes to go wide as the scene unfolds.

“I don’t think so.” The blade reappears on Ellie’s neck, sliding across her delicate skin, blood gushing as she falls to the ground, gurgling.

This can’t be happening.

“I could end the other two just as quickly. The three of you as well. Did you really think that your activities go unnoticed? That no one with half a brain could put together the pieces and track it back to you, your families?”

“What do you get out of this? You just killed someone, so you’re no better!” I proclaim, groping the machete, aching to go to war. But we need to be careful. This fucker has been ahead of us all night and we need to know what evidence has been uncovered of our crimes.

A laugh rings out just as the fucker reaches up and pulls the mask off.

What. The. Fuck?

“You, but why? How?” comes out in shock.