His Brutal Game by Audrey Rush

CHAPTER 14

Wilder

ten years old

A metal mask wrapped around my face. I couldn’t see anything. My head hurt; the mask was heavy. I pressed myself against the wall, trying to get my bearings. The metal rails. The wooden walls. Dust on the cement floor. I was in the Dairy Barn. This was part of training, then. We had enemies. We had to be ready.

My breath softened as I listened, my breaths echoing slightly in the metal enclosure. The cloth gag dry in my mouth. Shuffling footsteps. The creak of a hay rack. Someone else was in here, not just my father. That meant—

“Only one of you will beat the others,” Forrest said, his voice booming over the speaker system. Both of us went still. “If you want to take over the family business, then you must do what needs to be done. Show me how much you want to win.”

I crept along the wall until I hit a corner. I slid down to the ground and started grabbing at the cement. There had to be something here.

“There are weapons,” Forrest added, his voice scratchy. “Find them.”

I could picture my father smiling as he observed me on the surveillance footage. But I had never done training in the Dairy Barn with anyone in here before. It was always just me. Had the other person been through this before? Or did I have the advantage?

I inched my way on the ground, my fingers spread, until my thumb knocked into a gun. I pulled back the hammer, listening for where to aim it. I needed to find the key to get the metal mask off of my eyes. There was always a key. Where was it?

Metal dinged against one of the troughs. The key. I scrambled to get there first, knowing that there was likely only one key for us to share. A gasp drifted to me. I knew that sound, but I couldn’t place it. I reached forward, grabbing the key, then dashed back to the corner. I unlocked it, then pried the metal mask off of me.

Finally, the weight lifted, my eyes coming into focus. I pulled out the gag, letting it hang around my neck. The barn was dark. And there were two shadows in the corner. A woman and a boy.

“Wolves in sheep’s clothing are everywhere,” Forrest said. “Do not let me down.”

I couldn’t tell what he meant. Was he warning me, or was he talking about me? It must have been a warning for me because I would never pretend to be something I wasn’t. My father had taught me that. Let them fear you, he had said, and you will never lose.

“Only one can live,” my father said over the speaker.

I aimed the gun at the figures, stepping closer to them. The boy still had the contraption on his eyes, his face completely covered, but the woman stared at me. She must have dropped the key trying to help the boy when I took it. She held the boy close to her side, tears streaming down her cheeks, blood vessels throbbing in her face.

I did know her.

Mom.

I dropped my arms but clutched my gun at my side. Her body trembled, her lips moving. She raised her gun at me, then closed her eyes, holding the little boy close to her chest.

“Don’t forget our arrangement,” Forrest said.

Who was he talking to?

“I got you, baby,” my mother whispered, her eyes still closed. “Close your eyes,” she told Sawyer.

But his eyes were already covered by the mask.

Was she talking to me?

I came toward them. “Mom—”

The bullet hit me, an immense pressure filling my arm, full of dead weight. Spiked energy surging through my limbs. The unstoppable ringing. The scent of hay was strong, like a humid summer day. The dust in the air. The metal equipment. I fell back, tripping over my own feet. Stubbed my toe. Couldn’t feel it. Sawyer whimpered. My mother’s hoarse breathing. My head hit the cement.

And then it all stopped.

***

The hospital door creaked open. Sawyer. I didn’t understand why they were keeping me here.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked. The kid was four years old and lucky that he hadn’t seen anything—at least as far as I could remember. But he had come to see me every day, usually with a different rancher. My father had come the first time, but had been too busy since then. I understood that. It was work. But I hadn’t seen my mother yet.

Sawyer looked away. “Don’t know,” he said.

I reached over to fluff his hair, but I winced at the pain. A scared expression streamed through his eyes.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Just sore.”

“When are you coming home?” he asked.

“Don’t know.” All I knew was that I had to stay here, at the doctor’s, until our father said I could come back.

When the day came, Forrest escorted me out with Sawyer by his side. Sawyer kept his eyes on the ground. It must have bothered him, being stuck with Forrest and me, especially without Mom. But I knew she was alive, and he did too. He was a mama’s boy, the youngest.

Me? I was like my father. Strong and independent.

The three of us walked out of the main house and through the property. None of the ranchers or hunters were on site that day, and it was empty. No cattle to work on. No orders in the Dairy Barn. A wind chime off of the main house clanged with the wind, a decoration Mom had put there.

Where was she?

We headed through the pastures, walking for once. A sinking sensation swelled in my stomach the farther we walked. Why hadn’t we taken the side-by-side UTV? It’s like my father was procrastinating. The cattle lowed to the sides of us, a mother cow standing in the trees to the side, her calf lying in the grass. She bawled, a deep moan full of remorse. As we passed her, my father scoffed. He kept walking.

The calf’s neck was torn. Coyotes.

“Realize this,” Forrest said, his voice calm, his gait steady as we continued walking, “The only thing in our lives that’s guaranteed to any of us, is death. We’re no different from that calf.” He motioned behind us. “Nothing in life is certain. Not love. Not family. Only death. It’s the only power that’s worth anything.” He stopped at a patch of dirt, then kneeled down, facing us, his hands on our shoulders. “It’s why murder is our family’s business. There will always be a need to eliminate others. There’s no reason to feel guilty about that. We’re simply expediting nature. Killing is where our power lies. It’s in our nature.”

His blue-gray eyes inspected each of us, making sure that we understood. I nodded. Sawyer glanced at me, then nodded too. We continued walking.

“No matter who you are,” Forrest said, “no matter who it is on the other side of that gun, death is the only answer.”

My muscles twitched, my stomach twisting into knots. I had this gut feeling that he was saying it to me. To ask me why I hadn’t shot her, why I had let her shoot me instead. And I couldn’t answer that. Why hadn’t I shot my mother?

This wasn’t like my father. He usually made sure I wouldn’t forget my mistakes. Why wasn’t he doing anything to me? Had I disappointed him? Had I disappointed Mom?

The pond reflected the sun in a blinding light. A woman kneeled at the edge, a canvas hood covering her face, her hands cuffed behind her back.

“Dad,” I said, my voice quivering. I never called him that. But right then, I had to. He yanked off the hood, revealing our mother.

“She stole from our family’s business,” Forrest said. Sawyer whimpered. I wanted to kick him, to tell him to shut up. He was embarrassing himself, and me. “She shot you, son. She. Shot. You,” he said, punctuating each word like he could barely comprehend the situation himself. “She chose her other son over you. And you’re not going to let her get away with that.”

The image of her flashed in my mind. Her scared eyes. “Dad—”

Forrest grabbed her by the neck and shoulders, bringing her to the edge of the water. She screamed, muffled by the gag. Sawyer grabbed my side, hiding his face in his arms. And I was stuck in place. I had seen my father kill before. And I knew what was going to happen. Knew what Forrest would do if I tried to stop him.

How could I save her?

Could I save her?

Forrest held her face inches above the water.

“Say goodbye to everything you love,” he said, his voice trembling. Who was he saying it to? To Mom? To me? To himself? He shoved her into the water, and though Mom threw herself against him, trying to escape, it was no use. Dad was too big, and nothing she did was enough. Those seconds stretched on, ticking by, making my heart rate increase. I had watched him do it before. It was part of training. To understand what it took to be a hunter, and eventually, a rancher. Sweat coated Forrest’s face, his knees drenched in the pond water. But she pushed back, throwing him off. Gasped for air. He settled on her back, pushing her with all of his might. They had been married for years. It had never taken him this long to drown someone before.

What could I do?

Finally, her body relaxed. Forrest immediately got off of her. Shock pulsed through me. He usually stressed the importance of making sure that the face stayed in the water until ten minutes had passed, to guarantee their end. But he wasn’t doing that right now.

Forrest pulled Sawyer from my side, making him look at the back of Mom’s head, her face caked in mud, her body buried in the water and dirt. But she wasn’t dead yet. She was only unconscious. There was still time. I could save her.

But how?

I stepped forward, and Forrest’s frenzied eyes met mine, wet streams trailing down his face. A subtle shake of his head told me not to go any farther. I stilled, but I had to defend my mother.

“It’s just money,” I said. “You said it yourself. Death is—”

“It’s about loyalty,” Forrest growled. “She disobeyed me. Went behind my back. Stole from our business. When I had saved her.”

“But death should be the only thing we value.”

Forrest punched me, knocking me to the ground. “You don’t disrespect me, boy,” he said. “I vouched for your mother. Told your granddad that she was more valuable alive than dead. And she proved me wrong. And now I’ve got to take care of him too.” My head spun. I blinked. He stared down at me. “Get up.”

I didn’t move. He stomped a foot down into my shin and I wailed, the pain blinding. “I said to get the fuck up.”

I shoved myself up. He handed me a gun. Blue engravings swirled like ocean waves around the grip. Bright blue, like the hottest part of a fire.

“You have a choice, son,” Forrest said. The gun was heavier than I expected. I had held them before, had shot them, but never at a person. “You can uphold the family law.”

Did he mean to kill Mom?

I shook my head. “Dad, I—”

He jerked the gun at me, willing me to take it. “I’m your father,” he boomed, “and you will treat me with respect.” Sawyer latched onto me again. Instantly, that fear surged through me. Never knowing when Forrest would strike next. But I had learned not to feel it anymore. To ignore those reactions. To make it seem like none of it was there.

“She will either drown, or you will put a bullet in her head. Either way, she will die.”

Panic squeezed my throat shut. He took my hand, closing it around the gun.

“Kill her, Wilder,” he ordered.

It was the first time he was letting me do this. Making me kill someone.

If I didn’t do it, would he kill me too?

Would it be merciful to shoot her instead? A quicker death?

What could I do?

Forrest raised his fists. “Kill her, you fucking pussy!”

Close your eyes, she had said.

I shut my eyes and pulled the trigger.

The sound was gentler than I expected. Sawyer didn’t even flinch. My breathing stopped. I opened my eyes. Blood pooled from the wound at the back of her head, muddying the ground like a dark cake.

Forrest let out a sigh, wiping his face on his arm. I dropped the gun.

My father had been married to my mother for ten years. He had made me kill her. Made my brother watch.

Was that love? Or was that death?

“Go back to the farm, Sawyer,” Forrest said. I looked up at my father, but his eyes were on Sawyer. My pulse raced in my chest. He was making me stay. I knew what that meant. “Go on,” Forrest said. “Hurry now.”

Sawyer turned to me. I nodded. There wasn’t anything Sawyer could do to help me; we both knew it. I wanted him to go. To run. Now. And he did. My fingers twitched at my sides. My eyes fell down to the grass. I saw the gun lying on the ground in front of me. I reached for it. I could take Forrest down. Make him pay. But as my fingers skimmed the metal, Forrest grabbed my shoulders, pushing me into the pond. Mud oozed into my nostrils. Water in my mouth.

“She chose money over me. Sawyer over you,” Forrest said, his words even.

I couldn’t breathe. I pushed back, did everything I could, everything he had taught me to survive, but the bank was slippery and I fell onto my face. Again. Again. He was too big. I coughed and fought, blood pounding in my ears. My throat burned. My mother’s body was a few feet away.

“Your only choice is to kill, or die,” he said, tightening his grip on my shoulders, shoving me into the muddy pond water. I pushed back, willing myself to be stronger, to not be the child he thought I was. I was stronger. And one day, I would be stronger than him. All I had to do was try. And I had to do it. Had to beat him.

But it was no use. Everything tunneled, my heartbeat slowing.

Forrest let go, and I pushed myself up, choking on dirt and water. I leaned on my palms as I coughed up water and dirt, getting everything out. Forrest paced to the side of me, then kicked Mom’s body.

“Love. Family. Truth. Fuck it all,” he said. I held my chest, and Forrest picked up the gun, stowing it in his holster. His eyes darkened. His face was wet, caked with splatters of mud, as if he had been drowned too. But he hadn’t struggled for his life. He hadn’t even taken my mother’s life.

I had.

He cracked his neck, then looked down at me.

“Kill or die,” Forrest said. “There is no other option.”