Chapter 12

I can't fucking focus. The effects of the drug are in full swing as I try to calm myself.

One second, I'm positioning myself to be fucked from behind, and the next there's an explosion, blowing two people's heads clean off their bodies. Two more not long after. No one was safe from the blood and debris that were sent flying across the room. I'm pretty sure there is brain stuck in my hair, but I don't have time to think too hard about it right now. Each of the freshly deceased initiates and their partners are immediately cleaned up and removed from the room by the men dressed in black. Small remnants of flesh and meat are all that remain.

My watch is counting down, showing 3:32 on the purple screen.

Think, think, think.

Fucking THINK, Isabelle, I scream at myself internally.

Running my fingers through my hair, I look around. I immediately pulled Mason away from everyone else after the announcer came in, and we're back at the table. He was momentarily stunned by the explosions, but he's clearly more drugged up than I am. Or he's just that ignorant.

Mason stands at my side, leaning his body against mine for support. He's running his hands along my back, casually dipping them lower and lower until he reaches my ass.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can't think straight.

Greyson is on the edge of his seat along with everyone else on the balcony. They're locked in on what has quickly become a real life erotic horror movie.

Glancing down again, I read the watch.

3:15.

I don't understand the point of a countdown if they're blowing people's heads off before time runs out. Forcing my vision to straighten out, I scan the room, searching for each initiate's watch. They're all too far away to read, but I quickly realize they're all flashing different colors.

Purple, like mine.Orange.Pink.

My mind begins shuffling the color combinations, and suddenly it dawns on me. None of us can even make these colors because there's no one in the room painted in the one color we all need to match our watches. Is their plan to create mass chaos, then kill us all anyway? Two at a time, building anticipation as we wait to die.

Another explosion rocks the room, prompting me to use Mason's body as a shield against the body parts barreling through the air. They're sloppy and wet as they coat his back, and I watch the fresh blood mix with his blue paint.

From the corner of my eye I can see Greyson stand, positioning himself so he's leaning over the balcony. I can't tell if he's excited I'm about to die or if he's anxious, unsure I'm going to figure out whatever the fuck this is.

I turn back to Mason.

He's already smiling down at me, slurring his words as he says, "Let me fuck your rich girl cunt."

I inhale, caught off guard. "My what?"

"Come on," he laughs, low and slow. "That's what we're all here for, isn't it? To fuck the richest pussies in town?"

Disgust rolls through my stomach as I listen to him. That's all I am to him. The drugs gave us both the confidence to not give a fuck and be straight forward, but I just thought he was horny. It hadn't yet crossed my mind that he was only interested because he saw my mask and immediately assumed I was wealthy.

He's not wrong, but fuck, why does it have to hurt so bad?

The thought triggers me. This is how everyone used to treat me prior to removing myself from the friend group I once had. All they ever saw were dollar signs. Daddy's dirty money.

I'm staring at him but not looking at his face, watching drops of blood mix with his blue paint. The thick, shiny crimson creates the most beautiful shade of purple when combined with our fluorescent blue paint.

Mason pushes his body into me, and I raise my hands, forcing some of his weight off of me. He's so fucking heavy, and the drugs are making him act like dead weight.

Pulling my hands off of him, I feel chunks of human flesh stuck to the palm of my hand. Turning it over, I pick it off, then flick a piece to the floor. I begin picking at another piece, but it's stuck in the paint, swirling around my skin and creating a purple and blue marbled look.

My stomach sinks and my heart stops as the realization hits me.

We all need red to create our colors. Greyson told me none of the unsuspecting party guests would survive tonight minutes before bringing me here. It was a hint.

A fucking hint.

It all makes sense.

The knives, the inevitable death of the unsuspecting guests, the blood champagne flutes.

I have to kill Mason.

We all have to kill our partners if we're going to make it out of here. Bile rises in the back of my throat, and I lean past Mason as I bend over, emptying the contents of my stomach all over the floor. This is fucking sick.

I wipe the side of my mouth once I'm done vomiting, then straighten myself and turn my wrist to see my watch.

2:12.

Panic hits me and my entire body breaks out in a sweat. I can't do this. I can't fucking kill him. He's drugged up and can't defend himself. What kind of person would that make me?

A cold-blooded murderer. A woman with no morals. A heartless bitch.

I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes as I make eye contact with Greyson. With his upper body leaning over the balcony railing, I can see his features. He's beginning to look as panicked as I feel. He's staring intently, but he doesn't say anything. All he does is nod toward the table behind me, and I know what he's alluding to.

The knives.

Mason's hand is on my breast, kneading my skin with rough handfuls. I hiss at the pain, trying to pull away.

"Stop," I spit, pushing at him.

BOOM.

Blood and guts spray us again as two more people die. We all must be on different timers because the collars are detonating at staggered times. I check my watch, reading the screen again.

1:58.

Another minute, two more people gone. Six initiates, six minutes. That means I'm not next. Searching the room, I find that only four of us remain. Mason, myself, and two others fucking on the couch, completely oblivious to what's happening around us.

They're next. They have to be.

Mason's fingers slide down my body, pushing into my pussy in one swoop. I gasp as they slide inside me, filling me too roughly.

"Ow," I cry out, reaching for his wrist. "I said, stop."

He laughs, and I watch his dick get harder. I swallow hard, looking up at him. There's nothing but darkness in his eyes behind the mask. It was all fun and games when I was willing to be touched by him, but now that I'm distracted and trying to figure out how to save us, he's pissed off and about to lose his shit.

The weight of Mason's body slams me into the table, and I fall on my back as he lifts me by my hips and spreads my legs. He strokes his dick three times, making it good and hard before lining himself up at my entrance.

"Mason," I beg for him to hear me. "You don't know what you're doing."

"I know exactly what I'm doing," he growls. "I'm going to fill that rich cunt to the brim with my cum, and you're going to take it like the fucking slut you are."

My jaw drops, and I'm left speechless.

A beep sounds from across the room, signaling time is up for the couple on the couch. I don't even look as their collars go off, sending more body parts flying across the room. An ear lands beside me on the table.

I'm on the verge of tears. I can't fucking do this.

Mason's hands clamp down on my thighs, forcing my legs apart when I try to close them. He's using so much strength that I'm sure it's already bruising.

I fight back, struggling against his grasp to no avail. He's stronger than I am and he's easily twice my size.

"You owe me this after eating your pussy for as long as I did," Mason spits.

"I don't owe you shit, Mason," I scream.

We're the only two left. They're all watching us from above, waiting to see what'll happen.

As a last resort, I lean forward, slapping Mason across the face with as much force as I can muster. His hand shoots to his cheek, and I see the rage spread across his face. He's suddenly far less attractive than he was ten minutes ago.

My watch buzzes, and I see the screen.

0:30.

I stop thinking, making the only decision that feels natural right now. My fingers spread, shaking as I blindly feel around the table for a blade. The cold steel hits my fingertips, and I grab it, twirling it around so that the handle is firmly gripped in my palm.

Mason lunges for my neck, choking me with the full weight of his body. I can't breathe, and I can't even force out a sound. He's going to kill me if I don't kill him first, and we're both going to die if I don't kill him in less than thirty seconds.

Through the struggle, I manage to put the blade between us, pointing at his heart. I'm on the verge of passing out now, but I refuse to die like this. I won't die like this.

My watch begins buzzing, and I don't have to look to know it's the final ten seconds counting down.

I plunge the blade into his chest, cutting into flesh and bone. Blood almost instantly begins spraying out of him, covering me in the warm liquid. He's gagging on his blood as he hovers over me.

"You," he chokes."Fucking.Bitch."

I withdraw the knife from his chest, then swing toward his throat. His jugular is cut cleanly as I slide, opening his neck. Pulling my legs up, I plant my feet on his chest, then launch his body off of mine. Stumbling to my feet, I begin rubbing the blood and paint around on my body, mixing them frantically as the alarm on my watch goes off, signaling time is up.

I don't breathe, dropping to my knees as I wait.

Mason is already dead. He bled out within seconds, which isn't a bad death considering the various ways he could have died tonight. He won't feel a thing when our collars explode.

My eyes flutter closed and my lip quivers as tears begin steaming down my face.

Cheers erupt from the balcony. The unexpected applause makes me jump, and I look up to find Greyson descending the stairs. He's running to me.

"You did it," he says in disbelief, sweat beaded across his forehead. "You fucking did it."

"I killed him," I point to Mason's limp body, dropping my head.

"You did what you had to, to survive. You have one more trial, and it's the easiest of them all."

That catches my attention, forcing me to sit upright. "What is it?"

Greyson's eyes are sparkling as he watches me. "The chase through the forest, the sacrifice in the game, and now you'll share a glass of blood with me. It's a celebration."

I open my mouth to ague, but then again, what's the fucking point? My body is covered in fresh blood, and I just killed a man who was tongue deep in my pussy less than fifteen minutes ago. How bad could it even be? Is a flute of blood worth dying over after all of this?

No, it's not.

Greyson sees my submission, and he extends his hand to me, helping me to my feet as a man dressed in black enters the room with a tray. He approaches us, ignoring the dead man at our feet.

"Congratulations," he says as he plucks a flute of blood from the tray, offering one to me, and then one to Greyson.

We both take them. Greyson thanks him graciously, but I can't form the words, so all I do is nod before he turns, leaving the room. The Elders have all left, and the two of us are all that remain.

Holding his glass in the air, Greyson points it toward me. "Cheers."

I swallow, noticing how dry my mouth suddenly feels. "Cheers," I whisper as I tap my glass against his.

Greyson drinks first, drawing the flute to his lips without hesitation. He doesn't break eye contact as he tips it, taking the blood into his mouth. My hand is shaking, not only from the nerves, but because Mason's blood has cooled and I'm soaking wet.

A softness rises on Greyson's face. He sighs lightly before wrapping his free hand around the back of my neck, sternly but swiftly pulling my face to his. Greyson takes more blood into his mouth, swirling it around before lowering his lips to mine. He presses them on me, and I open for him. The metallic tang fills my mouth. My natural reaction is to spit it back at him, but I can't do that when his mouth is dominating mine and his tongue is exploring my mouth. The blood seeps from our lips, falling down our faces.

I moan as he tilts my head back, holding my throat in his hand. He's rough with me, but knows how to walk the line between pleasure and pain. The familiar pulsing returns to my legs as he deepens our kiss, pushing me against the table.

Mason is still dead at our feet, but we don't stop.

Greyson frees his dick from his pants. His voice is throaty as he says, "As much as I enjoyed watching you play with him, this pussy is mine. "

His hand comes down on my pussy, sending a sharp pain through me just before he slides two fingers inside me, curling them and pumping hard as I squirm beneath him.

"It's yours," I cry out, letting my head fall back against the table, nearly spilling my glass of blood before Greyson takes it from my hand.

My legs are relaxed, spread widely for him as he touches me, drawing out my pleasure. He lines himself up without wasting much time, then pushes the head of his dick inside me. Greyson withdraws slowly, then slides back inside me, more this time. He does it a few more times, gently stretching my pussy. Looking down at the space between us, Greyson pools spit in his mouth, then lets it fall to my clit. He uses his fingers to spread it around, then swirls my clit with the perfect amount of pressure.

Arching off the table, I raise my arms over my head, letting them rest behind me.

He's in control.

He can have me any way he likes, any time he wants. I'll go to the ends of the earth just to have the feeling of his dick inside me, filling me so fully I can barely breathe. His touch makes me feel alive, and tonight…

Tonight was a gift.

I've spent too much time hiding away by myself, feeling sorry that my life turned out this way. But he's shown me there's so much more out there. The Reckoning is exhilarating. The money, the sex, the blood on my body.

Mason fucking deserved it. If I hadn't been pressured into it, I would have never killed him, and he'd still be a predator, running free and taking what he thinks is his. The Exodus solved the problem, and now there's one less piece of shit in the world.

Greyson holds my flute of blood above my mouth, pounding his dick inside me as he commands, "Open."

I don't hesitate as my lips part, inviting the liquid back to my taste buds. Tilting the glass, he lets it pour into my mouth, giving me time to swallow mouthfuls. It's empty after a few big gulps, and Greyson has the biggest smile plastered across his face.

"Congratulations," he breathes, continuing to fuck me.

My words come out as a pleasure-filled scream. "Thank you."

Greyson's strokes get harder, and he pulls on my legs to bring my ass back to the edge of the table. I can hear the table hitting the wall behind us, and it only makes me more feral.

"Yes, like that," I pant when Greyson pushes a finger inside me, stretching me even more as his dick fills me.

The walls of my pussy clamp down, tightening around him as I shatter, coming all over his dick.

He grunts as he follows me, and his deep voice echoes through the empty room, "Fuck!"

We're both moaning uncontrollably, coming completely undone as we fall apart with each other. Greyson shivers as he uses my pussy to milk every drop of cum out of his dick, pumping me so full it's oozing out of me, falling to the ground beside Mason's face.

Leaning over my body, Greyson gives me a final kiss before pulling his dick out of me. The cum pours down my thighs as he helps me to my feet.

"Let's get you cleaned up," he says, planting a soft kiss on my forehead.

Glancing between us, I'm disgusted by the crusty mixture of paint and blood spread across my skin and his clothes. My entire body is covered, leaving no spot untouched. It's going to take more than one shower to feel clean again.

Greyson takes my hand, then leads me out of the room and back down a maze of hallways. We eventually land in a community shower with attendants ready to scrub my body. He waits to the side while they take me away, cleansing my skin and removing all evidence of what happened tonight. They have a set of gray sweatpants and matching sweatshirt waiting for me after they've dried me off. I step into them and a pair of slippers, smiling as the soft fabric meets my sore feet.

"It's time to go," Greyson says as they finish, extending his hand for me to take. He changed his clothes while I was busy with the attendants, now dressed in a lazier pair of black trousers and a new black button-up. His gold watch has been shined too, and it looks brand new again.

Resting my hand in his, I follow him out of the lodge and into the yard where the freshly cut grass overlooks the lake. The sun is beginning to rise, and there's a cool breeze swirling through the air. My wet hair catches in the drift, forcing a shiver out of me as we watch night turn into day.

Clouds of lavender and cotton candy meet the orange sun as it climbs the sky behind the mountains. A sense of peace and belonging wash over me. Greyson pulls my shaking body into him, letting his warmth surround me.

"Welcome to The Exodus."