His Brutal Game by Audrey Rush

CHAPTER 15

Wilder

present

“You’re a virgin,” Maisie said.

The train tunnel’s entrance let the night trickle in, casting dim shadows on Maisie’s body. The air was cool, the moisture thick. Our breaths were measured but loud in the emptiness. She said it like that word meant something. Yeah, I hadn’t stuck my dick inside of a pussy yet. Who cared? I had no interest in giving myself to something that would render me powerless. I shifted away.

“You want to talk about it?” she asked.

What was there to talk about?

“You know I can’t see you, right?” she said. “And you can’t see me. So if you wanted to open up, here, in this dark tunnel, this would be the place.” I huffed. I wasn’t interested in talking about that.

“She was just a kid,” Maisie said, breaking up the silence. A kid? She must have been talking about her little sister. I turned toward her voice, wishing I could see her face. “We both were, I guess.” She pushed herself back into the corner, her form shifting like an inkblot in water. “Mom always told us not to go down here. And Fiona listened. She was the good girl, you know? The oldest. But me and Elaine? We came down here all the time. I was her big sister, you know? The one who always played with her. The daring one. The one who was okay with breaking the rules, as long as we had fun.” Maisie paused, sucking in a breath. “Then one day, I ran down here. And she followed me. It wasn’t any different, you know? We had done it before. But a train was coming, and for some stupid reason, I thought we could make it to the cubbies. Swore that we could. If we ran a little faster.” Her voice quivered. “Her shoelace got caught.”

An accident like that could have happened to anyone. A poor judgment made while driving. A lapse of scrutiny working with heavy machinery. That was all it took. Maisie knew to stay back. Knew better, but took the risk anyway, and she had to face what had happened. Had to live with that choice.

Our stories were more alike than either of us had realized.

“Elaine,” she whispered. “I haven’t said her name in years.”

It must have hurt her to share a story like that. An urge built inside of me, bubbling like boiling water. I wanted to say something. To do something. For Maisie. But I didn’t know what. I stayed quiet. Perhaps it was better to listen. Because there was nothing I could do to make this better for her. The past had happened. We couldn’t change it.

But maybe I could share my own story.

“My mother was about to die from asphyxiation, and I shot her,” I said. At first, I had told myself that she was going to die anyway. That shooting her was merciful. A quick escape. Death was a cure, our only guarantee. But as the years went by, I understood that those thoughts were an excuse. She was my first kill; I made that choice. And one day, death would take me too.

“How did she asphyxiate?” Maisie asked quietly.

“Forrest drowned her.” I rubbed my brow. “He said she had betrayed him.” And me. But those words didn’t seem real either. She had been protecting Sawyer; he was only four years old. She had done what she needed to do. She was a mother. But my actions? I wasn’t a son. A son wouldn’t do that to his own mother. “I pulled the trigger.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Maisie said.

Blood rushed to my head. ‘Blaming’ implied that I wasn’t in the wrong, but I was. It was my choice, and I would live with that decision until I joined her. My jaw twitched.

“I’m not,” I said.

“You are, though,” Maisie argued. I clenched my fists. “You’re punishing yourself. But you knew she was going to die. You had nothing to do with—”

“Stop assuming you understand,” I said, raising my voice. “Did you shove your sister onto the tracks?”

“No.”

“Your sister died of an accident. It wasn’t your doing. You didn’t make that choice.”

“You’re right.” A wave of heat rushed through me. Maisie was saying that I was right? “I don’t know what you went through,” she continued, “but I’m trying to understand. To understand you. And you know what, Wilder? I made a choice too. I chose to take us through this tunnel when I knew exactly what could happen to us.”

I stilled, listening to her shift in the darkness. Why was she still here? Didn’t she get it? I had killed my mother. Maisie wasn’t supposed to accept me. She was supposed to hate me for everything I had done, everything I stood for.

But Maisie was still there, trying to figure it out. To understand me.

“You should take your own advice,” I finally said. “Don’t blame yourself.”

“Logically, I understand that it was an accident,” she said. “We had done it hundreds of times before without a problem. But I didn’t really understand the risks, you know? We were kids. I get that.” She shifted again, balling herself up in the shadows. “But I was her older sister. Her guardian. I was supposed to be looking out for her. We shouldn’t have been down there in the first place.” She forced a laugh. “I can always tell people the best thing to do. The best thing to believe. But I’m horrible when it comes to doing any of that myself.”

I reached for her hand, my palm skimming over her thigh, my fingers tingling at the contact. I pulled back, running my hand over my face. What was I doing? Touching her wasn’t going to make it any better. It was going to make it worse.

“Until you pull the trigger, you are not a killer,” I said.

I removed my gun from the holster, cocked it, then placed it in her hands. Her palms sunk down under the weight. She didn’t move. I pushed her finger into the trigger guard, then made her point it at me.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Do it.” I moved the barrel to my heart. If this was my time to go, I wanted it to be her.

“No,” Maisie said. She pressed the gun toward me, trying to force it into my hands. “Tell me, Wilder. If you wanted, even with this gun in my hands, you could kill me, couldn’t you?”

I inhaled deeply, sucking in her fragrant scent. That intoxicating musk, even here, in this damp tunnel.

“Yes,” I said.

She pressed the gun into my palms, making me hold it. “But you choose not to kill me,” she said.

As if that defined me.

I had killed four people that evening alone.

“Do you not trust yourself with me?” she asked, her voice uncharacteristically shy, like she was afraid of the answer. Because we both knew the truth. Yes, I didn’t trust myself with her, but not in the way she thought. I could control myself; I had been taught to control my emotions at an early age. To never let anything slip through the cracks.

But Maisie unhinged me.

I wasn’t afraid of killing. I was afraid of what saving her would do to me.

She cleared her throat. “I can take it. Whatever you’ve got,” she said. She tossed hair over her shoulders, the strands faintly glimmering in the dim light. “Trust me. I’ve seen it all. A little water torture isn’t going to scare me.”

I almost laughed. Obviously, water torture hadn’t scared her away. A sane person would have run screaming, but Maisie wasn’t normal. Neither was I.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she said.

She was so damn persistent.

“I don’t,” I said. I knew she was safe. But if I got attached to her in any way, others could use her against me. And I couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t risk it.

“Bullshit,” she said. She lifted her chin in the air. “If you didn’t worry about me, I would be dead. We both know it.” The shadows danced across her face. “You’ve had ample opportunities to kill me. Hell, you could kill me, right now.” Laughter trickled into her voice. “And no one would find my body for days.”

“Run,” I said again. Because that was what was best for her.

And yet I kept following her.

“I didn’t run away from Green.” My muscles twitched at his name. That bastard. “I’m not going to run. Not from you, Wilder.”

I stared at her dark shape, trying to reason with her, to give her this last chance to get away as far as she could.

But Maisie stayed.

And I didn’t move either.

The ground rumbled slightly at first, then a light beamed into the darkness. We both pushed ourselves against the wall. The horn bellowed, vibrating through our bodies. The air suctioned around us, creating a vacuum, the carts swooping by. Each flash of light that went past us illuminated Maisie in bursts: her yellow and black hair, her hazy brown eyes, that dark lipstick. The bite mark healing on her neck. My mark. But I wanted more. And no matter what I did, I would always want more. She moved forward as if to touch the train with her fingers, to make sure it was real. I wanted to touch her, to make sure she was real too.

Because Maisie was right. I could kill her. I could push her forward, hurtle her onto the railing. Let her die like her sister. Give her the peace she wanted.

Maisie shouted at me, her words catching in my chest: “Life isn’t always about trying to do the right thing. It’s more than that.”

I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t find my words.

“Sometimes, we’re just trying to survive,” she shouted. “To find whatever power we can. It’s not always about the right choice.”

The right choice.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

I grabbed her by the hair, pulling her back into the alcove. I pressed my lips to hers, a slight moan coming from her mouth vibrating through me, my hand pressing her wrists down against the brick walls. Everything shook beneath us, humming with energy, and Maisie melted underneath me. I shoved my tongue inside of her mouth, forcing her to endure me. Those flashes of light coursed over her closed eyes. She was so vulnerable. So weak. And yet, so strong-willed, it enraged me.

And I wanted her.

Her knees trembled and I broke the kiss. I thrust my hands into her pants, her pussy wet, her arousal drenching my fingers. I licked my fingers clean, tasting her sweetness, then rubbed my saliva on her face. Squeezed her lips between my fingers.

The last train cart passed by, and the air pressure relaxed, letting us breathe again. I pulled her forward, our shoes on the track. She grabbed for my belt, unzipping my pants. Fisted my cock. Her hand was small and cold on my dick, but I twitched at her touch, imagining ripping her apart. She kneeled down on the train tracks, taking me deep in her mouth. The light from the tunnel’s entrance dimly lit her eyes, beaming at me like an angel and demon mixed into one. Maisie, the woman I thought would break easily, a woman who had never known innocence, nor would she pretend to be pure. Her mouth took my length, swallowing me down, her lips firm, her tongue massaging me. I groaned, my eyes rolling back, trying hard to hold back, to let her do what she wanted to me. I stroked her head, letting her take control. Letting a woman actually take me for once. Deeper still, my shaft penetrating the back of her throat, her gag reflexes pushing into action, constricting against me, but then she teased my balls, her mouth going up and down, her hand working me, her fingers warming with my skin. Her tongue teased along the head, licking languidly. Taking her time. Pleasing me.

But I wanted her my way. And I wanted her now.

I pulled her by the hair, then pressed her down on the tracks, laying her down like a damsel about to meet her doom. But it was me, keeping her tied there. I mounted her mouth, letting my balls slap into her chin, fucking her throat until she gagged on me this time, barely able to breathe, everything inside of her constricting around me. I fucked her face. Fucked her like she was nothing but a hole to me when the opposite was true. I knew that now. And I was so damned tired of resisting. Tired of fighting it. Tired of letting everything go by when all I wanted was her. To fuck her. To understand her. Like she somehow understood me.

I braced myself on the planks, the wood biting into my skin, fucking her throat until she pushed on my hips, trying to tell me that it was too much, but I knew she could take it. I didn’t stop. I kept fucking her mouth, those lips opening, trying to find a breath, until she dragged her nails across my hips, the pain lighting me on fire. I pulled out, come shooting out of my dick, spraying her face, her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. Mine. Every part of her. Marked by me.

In the dim light, she licked the come from her lips and hands. I wished there was more light. I wanted to see her.

But if I had waited, I might have never done it.

I took a deep breath, then I helped her stand. We both sat back inside of that recessed alcove, waiting in silence for a while, our heartbeats settling into a comfortable rhythm.

I had done what I had sworn not to do. And somehow, that didn’t matter. I couldn’t change it. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.