Chapter 10
Colton Depardieu woke up groggy. He blinked and tried to remember where he was. It remained dark outside, but the sun had risen just above the horizon in the distance. He was at a farm, he remembered, and they’d been after Abigail.
They’d found her, in fact, and it had been a simple job of springing their trap and finishing her off. Somehow, she’d known of their presence and had managed to take them down and get away.
But, she’d also confirmed what he already knew to be true: she was a monster.
When she’d attacked him, her eyes had glowed, and her face wore a mask of rage. She was evil, plain and simple, and needed putting down.
Colton had wounded her—had shot her in the side, and even though it hadn’t been enough to stop her, it would slow her down. With any luck, they could track her. He checked for his keys. Gone.
Colton cursed. They’d slashed the tires on her vehicle the night before, but if she’d found their car, it would prove harder to find her. They could drive on the rims to get back to the road, and then pick up another vehicle along the way, but it would end up costing them time. They needed to get moving.
He felt pissed at the idea that she’d managed to get the better of him. Of all of them. They’d ambushed her at this stupid house and had every advantage, and yet, somehow, she’d survived and gotten away.
The woman hadn’t even had the guts to finish them off.
He’d known her as weak-willed, and this proved it beyond a shadow of a doubt. He would find her, and then he would end her.
Colton rose to his feet, planning to find and wake Jack and Anong. They would need to catch Abigail before she made it too far. With any luck, the bullet wound in her side would make it easy to finish her.
Not looking forward to the call, he pulled out his burner phone and dialed the number saved there. Aram answered on the third ring.
“We found her,” Colton said.
“Where?”
“Ohio.”
“Is she dead?”
“Not yet,” Colton said. “But she’s wounded.”
“I’m sending backup to your location.”
“We won’t need it,” Colton said. “She’ll be dead within the hour.”
“I’m not taking any risks,” Aram said. “Make sure you don’t miss this time.” Aram ended the call.
Colton stretched out his body and dragged in a few breaths, trying to clear his head. He had a raging headache as he walked back toward the barn to find the other Hunters.
Not there. He rounded the corner. That, too, proved empty. Broken beams lay scattered about, and the ground looked messed up from where the fight had taken place, but his two friends had gone missing.
“Jack?” he shouted. “Anong?”
No answer. Colton looked around, confused, and then headed back to the house. Maybe they had woken earlier and gone inside?
Still, if that were the case, why hadn’t they woken him? They knew the importance of finding Abigail. If they had gone in to rest and just left him out there, he would be furious.
Broken windows had teeth of jagged glass, the door hung askew on its hinges, and bullet holes peppered the walls everywhere. It looked like a war zone. Thank God this had happened in the middle of nowhere, or the police would be swarming by now.
They would get here soon, anyway. No doubt, someone had called in about gunshots. They so had to get a move on.
Jack and Anong lay face down in the living room. The bastards had fallen asleep. Colton walked up and kicked Jack’s boot. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Jack didn’t budge. Colton kicked him again, and then went over and tapped Anong on the foot as well.
“Get up, sleepy heads. We have work to do.”
Neither moved. He knelt next to them, frowning. And then he eased Anong over onto her side. Her cut throat gaped open in a red mess, but worse still, someone—or something—had cut out her eyes. Two gaping holes were all that remained where her brown orbs should have sparkled with life.
Repulsed and terrified, Colton dropped Anong’s body and stepped back, removing his gun from its holster. Still gasping in shock, he used his foot to roll Jack. He bore the same mutilations.
“What the hell?” Colton muttered, scanning the room. Now that he paid attention, he saw droplets of blood on the floor, leading from the kitchen. Not nearly enough to justify cut throats, but more than a dribble.
They hadn’t died in situ. Someone had dragged them here.
Gun wobbling in his trembling hand, Colton followed the small trail around the corner and into the kitchen. Large pools of drying blood congealed on the floor. Four eyes on a cutting board stared at him. The massacre had taken place in this room.
Noise from behind had him spin on his heels. A woman stood there with a cloak pulled over her face. Colton aimed and pulled the trigger.
It clicked but didn’t fire.
He pulled it again, but it kept clicking.
“I removed the bullets while you slept,” the woman said, walking closer. Not Abigail, though he had no idea who it might be.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Call me a concerned citizen.” She strode toward him. “I’m cleaning up the streets and taking vigilantes out of commission.”
Colton dropped the gun and drew his knife, and then fell into a fighting stance.
“You’re a demon,” he said. “I would recognize the stench anywhere.”
“That’s not a nice thing to say.” She stepped closer. “Especially to a lady.”
Colton stepped forward and stabbed. She deflected his arm, stepped inside his reach, and shoved him on the sternum with her palm.
He staggered back, gasping for air when his lungs collapsed. Never in his life had he received such a forceful hit. She stepped in again, knocking the knife out of his grasp and kicking him to the floor. Colton slid on a pool of blood, and when he hit the floor, the crimson mess soaked his clothes. Then the woman lifted a pan from the counter and bashed him in the side of the head with it.
Time passed while he fell in and out of consciousness. He had flashes of awareness, but when he finally came to, she had tied his hands, and he lay in the living room next to the other Hunters.
The woman stood over him, holding a huge butcher’s knife, her cowl hiding her face.
He tested the ropes. Too tight to wiggle out of.
“Reinforcements are coming,” he said.
“I know.”
“You won’t get away with this,” he said. “You murdered Hunters. They’ll never stop looking for you.”
“On the contrary,” she said. “By the time I’m done, there won’t be anyone left to come looking.”
She knelt down, pulling up his pants leg and exposing his shin and calf. “Ever been to a butcher shop? Ever watched someone carve up a cow? I’ve always found it fascinating, the way they strike down and cut right through the bone.”
“Please,” Colton said, shivering and trying to scoot back.
“But, often,” she said, setting down the butcher knife. “They will use other tools as well. Like a meat tenderizer.”
She picked up a heavy-looking mallet from the floor and held it up for inspection. It had ridged sides and looked cumbersome.
“Softens up the meat and makes it easier to cut. More tender.”
“I’ll tell you everything. Don’t do this.”
She laughed. “So easy to break. If only I needed information from you, I’d feel rather disappointed at how easily I shattered you. No, friend, I don’t need anything from you. You’re just a victim of circumstance.”
She slammed the mallet down on his shin.
Bone crunched.
Colton screamed.
Agony roared up his leg.
She slammed it down again, and once more.
He jerked and crawled back. The foot dragged along the ground, attached only by the wrecked skin and muscle.
“Amazing, isn’t it? The tools we’ve created to make tasks easier. We are remarkable creatures at overcoming obstacles.”
She hesitated, and then added, “Well, I guess not we, right?”
Then she swung the mallet down again, crashing it against his knee.
He didn’t quite black out, but his world became pain and confusion after that. She kept talking, but the words no longer made sense. All he could do was plead and beg while she crashed the mallet against his legs and arms.
At some point, she switched to using the butcher’s knife and sliced off chunks of his flesh. She did it methodically, patiently, always doing just enough to make sure it gave him excruciating pain but not enough to kill him.
By the time she finished him off, he lay begging for her to kill him. It took what felt like forever before he died.
