Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

ASHER

I watch her walk away, her hips swaying in that way that makes my blood run hot. She doesn’t even realize the two assholes under the café’s awning are practically drooling over her. My fists clench at my sides as I catch their murmured comments. They’re not subtle. Not even close. And when that tall fuck touched her?

I’m still trying to stop myself from fucking his shit up right here and now.

Then they look at each other, a silent exchange passing between them like they’re wolves who’ve just spotted wounded prey. The taller one tosses his cigarette into the snow and nods toward Sloan. My heart pounds, the heat in my veins turning into a cold, sharp rage as they step off the curb and start following her.

Like fuck.

I trail them, my boots crunching softly against the snow. They’re too focused on Sloan to notice me— fucking amateurs.

The taller one laughs under his breath, his voice low and lecherous as he mutters something I don’t quite catch. The shorter one, Marcus, makes some crude comment about her ass, and that’s all it takes for me to see red.

Marcus. I know him—everyone around here does. The sleazy little punk with the smug smile who thinks he’s untouchable. I’ve seen the social media posts about him, the whispers on local forums, the headlines that everyone pretends to forget. Accusations of rape. Multiple women came forward, but nothing ever stuck. His parents’ money kept his name clean, but I know the truth. Everyone does.

And now, this piece of shit thinks he can follow Sloan?

Not if I have anything to say about it.

I follow them for a block, staying far enough back to avoid their notice. The ski mask I slipped on earlier hides my face, but the cold air bites at the sliver of skin it doesn’t cover. Sloan is still ahead, oblivious, her red hair catching the glow of the holiday lights like fire in the snow.

She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts. These bastards don’t even deserve to look at her.

Marcus nudges the taller guy, his voice carrying just enough for me to catch. “Bet she’s got a tight little—”

My hands curl into fists.

The taller one laughs again. “Think she’s alone?”

Marcus smirks. “Guess we’ll find out.”

I stop walking. My breath fogs the air as I take a moment to calm the fire raging in my chest. They don’t see me yet, too busy watching Sloan’s every movement like the predators that they are to even notice they’re being hunted themselves.

Big mistake.

Marcus doesn’t know it, but he just signed his fucking death warrant.

Traffic snarls ahead, a long line of cars stalled at a stoplight beside the wooded park, its paths lined with Christmas inflatables and strings of twinkling lights. The air smells of pine and frost, the faint jingle of a holiday tune drifting from the speakers mounted somewhere out of sight. Sloan crosses the street quickly, her figure illuminated for a moment in the glow of a giant inflatable Santa before she disappears down the snow-dusted sidewalk.

The two dipshits aren’t so lucky. They pause at the curb, their pace faltering as they glance around, trying to spot where she went. The taller one mutters something under his breath, looking annoyed, while Marcus flashes his typical cocky grin, clearly confident they’ll catch up.

They won’t.

I trail them as they veer off the main path, following the winding walkway into the wooded park. The lights stretch ahead, a kaleidoscope of reds, greens, and whites reflecting off the snow, casting the trees in an eerie, shifting glow. The inflatables—everything from grinning snowmen to a reindeer in a rocking chair—sway slightly in the frigid wind, their movements almost lifelike in the flickering light.

The further in we go, the quieter it becomes. The festive music fades, replaced by the crunch of snow under boots and the occasional rustle of branches overhead. Everyone else has gone home, tucked away with their families for Christmas Eve. The park feels deserted, the kind of empty that sends a shiver up your spine.

They pass a towering nutcracker standing guard at the edge of the pond, its painted face frozen in a hollow grin. The pond itself glistens under the lights, its surface frozen and slick, surrounded by a low metal railing. Sloan’s long gone now, but these idiots aren’t giving up. Marcus nudges the taller one, his voice low but audible as he laughs, probably cracking some dumb joke about catching up to her.

I hang back, my boots soundless in the snow as I slip between the inflatables, keeping to the shadows.

They stop near the edge of the pond, scanning the area. The taller one curses again, kicking at the snow in frustration, while Marcus shoves his hands into his pockets, his grin never faltering. I see his breath puff out in little clouds, his confidence radiating off him like a stink.

He doesn’t know I’m here.

Stepping out from behind a trio of inflatable penguins, I move toward them, silent as a wolf closing in.

They don’t see me until I’m too close.

“Lose something?” I ask, my voice low, sharp, and cutting through the cold air like a blade.

They turn around, startled, but they’re quick to cover it up. The taller one sneers, his jaw tightening as he sizes me up. “Who the fuck are you?”

Marcus, cocky as hell, steps forward. The idiot’s trying to play it off like I’m just some pissed-off bystander, not someone who knows exactly what they’ve been doing.

“You’re really following us, man?” he sneers, folding his arms. “What? You think you’re some kinda hero? This isn’t your fight.”

I let out a low chuckle, the kind that doesn’t reach my eyes. “You two were so fucking worried about chasing tail you’ll never touch, you didn’t even notice I’ve been trailing you since the café,” I say, the words laced with venom. I take another step forward, my presence closing in on them. “You think you’re slick? That you’re low-key? Idiots. I saw every move you made, heard every fucking word that slipped from your disgusting mouths.”

The taller one snorts, his chest puffing up, trying to act like he’s not rattled. “Yeah? And what? You think you’re some big bad hero now, huh? You’re just another fucking punk hiding behind a mask. I don’t see a cape, do you?”

Marcus laughs, his grin twisted with arrogance. “Oh shit, you’ve been following us? What? Are you trying to play protector? Get over yourself, man. We’re just having some fun. Don’t make it more than it is.” He leans in, throwing a mocking glance at me. “You’re really gonna try and play the tough guy in front of us? Cute.”

I sneer at them, the words dripping with disdain. “Of course you would think you can just take whatever you want. Touch whatever you feel like; I’m sure your mommy and daddy raised you to be just like that. Because the world didn’t have enough entitled pieces of shit. Well, you’re in my world now, and in my world, the villain’s the one you need to fear, not the hero.”

Marcus looks at me like I’m the one in the wrong, like I’m ruining his fun. “Fuck you, man. What’s it matter to you? If it’s that big of a deal you can have her when we’ve both─”

I don’t give him a chance to finish. Before he can blink, I’m on him, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the metal railing by the pond. His head hits with a satisfying crack, and he wheezes as I tighten my grip, pushing him harder into the cold iron.

“You think you can talk like that about her?” I growl, my voice dark and thick with rage. “Think you can follow her around like some fucking animal and then touch her? You’re nothing but a filthy piece of shit.”

His hands claw at my wrist, gasping for air, but he can’t get free. The taller guy hesitates, taking a step forward, but I don’t even look at him. Instead, I pull the knife from my pocket, flashing it in the dim light. It catches the glow of the Christmas lights, the blade wicked and cold. The coward freezes in place.

“You want a turn?” I ask, my tone cold, barely glancing at him. “One more step, and I’ll carve you open like a Christmas turkey.”

He swallows hard and backs off, terrified. That’s what I thought.

Marcus, though, doesn’t learn his lesson. “You think this makes you tough?” he manages, his voice hoarse and weak. “You don’t even know her. You’re just some wannabe tough guy, trying to play pretend.”

I can’t help but laugh. It’s bitter and filled with venom. “Tough guy? You think I’m playing some kind of game here? I don’t need to ‘play’ anything. I’m just pissed off that I have to waste my time on assholes like you.”

I slam him against the railing again, harder this time. His eyes bulge in panic, and I can feel his body go limp in my grip. He can’t handle this. None of these creeps ever can.

“You think I don’t know who you are?” I spit, my words dripping with contempt. “Marcus fucking Keller. The rich little prick who thinks he can do whatever the fuck he wants. Where’s your daddy’s money now, though, huh? It can’t fucking save you. Not from me.”

His eyes flicker with fear, his bravado slipping away. “I—I didn’t mean it,” he gasps, choking. “It was just a joke, man. We didn’t mean to—”

I cut him off by slamming him into the railing again, this time with everything I’ve got. His head bounces off the cold steel, and I can feel the rage surge in me. “A joke? You think this is funny?” I spit on the ground. “You think it’s funny to follow her? To plan to touch her like she’s some fucking toy for you to use at your convenience?”

His lips quiver, but he’s too fucking scared to speak. His hands paw uselessly at my wrist, and I’m not done yet.

“Hey, man, chill,” his friend starts, raising his hands. “We didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I snap my head toward him, and he freezes. “You’ve got five seconds to walk away before I take that fucking cigarette and shove it so far down your throat you choke on it.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. He bolts, slipping on the snow as he disappears into the woods, leaving his friend to fend for himself.

Marcus continues struggling under my grip, his breath coming out in panicked, shallow gasps. He tries to fight, squirming, but the icy railing cuts into his back as he pushes against it, his hands slapping uselessly at my forearm.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I growl, my voice low and dangerous. I press harder, watching as fear floods his eyes. His bravado is gone, replaced with the realization that he’s not in control anymore. Not now, not ever .

“Come on, man,” he stammers, his voice cracking. “We weren’t gonna do anything, I swear.”

“Do I look like I believe you?” I press the knife against his throat, hard enough to make him wince. “You’re a fucking joke, Marcus. Always were. Following other people around like a lost dog, begging for scraps. You think that makes you a man? You think that makes you good enough to even look at her?”

“She’s just some stupid bitch, man. A fucking tourist!” he blurts out, panic flooding his voice. “She’d have been gone after the holiday, no harm done.”

I don’t waste a second. Grabbing him by the collar, I drag him off the railing, throwing him down onto the frozen pond with a sickening thud. The moment his body hits the ice, it cracks beneath us, the sound like thunder in the dead of night. His yelp is drowned out by the groaning of the ice as it starts to split and fracture.

“You’re fucking crazy!” he yells, his voice high and panicked.

“Crazy enough to make sure you never see Christmas morning.”

The ice beneath us shatters, sharp and sudden, the sound ringing in the air like a death knell. Marcus’s eyes go wide as the surface gives way, the frozen water splitting open, and he plunges in with a panicked scream. I don’t move. I stab my knife into the ice, driving it deep, watching as it splits further, the cracks spreading fast, like a spider’s web about to collapse.

Marcus flails in the freezing water, trying to claw his way back to the surface. I stand firm, watching him struggle. Beneath the ice is brutal, violent—there’s no escape.

He clings to the edge of the ice, gasping for air, his face contorted with desperation. I step closer, my boots crunching on the brittle surface as I kneel, towering over him. I look down at him with nothing but hatred, the weight of my presence pushing down on him like an unrelenting force.

“You wanted to mess with her?” I sneer, my voice cold, taunting. “Thought you could just play with a girl like her, huh? Just another tourist to use and throw away?” I pull my knife from the ice, the blade gleaming in the dim light, and without hesitation, I drive it into his hand, pinning him to the ice with a sickening twist.

His scream is muffled, his fingers curling around the hilt of the knife, but I don’t care. His pain is nothing compared to what he deserves.

I mutter, shaking my head in mock pity. “Well, look where that got you. Ironic, isn’t it? Now, I’m the one who gets to have all the fun. I’m the one who gets to fucking mess with you, and guess what, Marcus, when I’m done, I get to throw you away, too.”

I let out a bitter laugh as I watch him struggle, clawing at the ice, his body trembling from the cold, but he knows it’s too late.

In the silence of the night, I can feel the weight of what I’m about to do. This isn’t some hero’s moment, some dramatic final showdown. No. This is just me taking care of business, finishing what should’ve been done the moment he laid his eyes on her.

I grab his head, dragging him by his hair, forcing him to look up at me. “Sorry, Marcus,” I murmur, almost disappointed. “But I’ve got better things to do than watch you choke on your own fear.”

With a swift motion, I shove his head under the water, feeling the life drain from him as he thrashes beneath my grip. His body bucks against mine, his last desperate attempts to escape, but it doesn’t matter.

I hold him there, watching as his struggles grow weaker, as his body goes limp. It’s over. I pull my knife from his hand, watching as the last breath he takes is swallowed by the cold depths. His form is carried away, his body lost to the unforgiving water.

As the last bubble escapes his mouth, I pull back, leaving him in the freezing darkness. Nature will take care of the rest for me. His body will be frozen within forty-five minutes, and sink to the bottom of the pond, lost and forgotten.

It’s a death better than he deserves.

“Now, that’s done,” I mutter, wiping the blood from my blade in the snow. “I’ve got a doe to catch.”

And with that, I walk off, leaving the frozen pond—and Marcus’s frozen body—behind me.