His Brutal Game by Audrey Rush

CHAPTER 20

Wilder

The next morning, I startled awake. Maisie wasn’t beside me.

My pulse skyrocketed. I pulled on my clothes and ran out the door. Dark shadows stretched over the pasture. I flicked on the light in the Dairy Barn: it was empty. At least she wasn’t there.

I checked the Calving Barn. A few of the ranchers had arrived.

“Anyone seen my wife?” I asked.

A few dismissive grunts. A new hire shook his head. I checked the main house, but my father was asleep, and there were no signs of her anywhere. I headed to the city, straight to Sawyer’s house. Knowing him, he’d want a show of Maisie’s death, to prove to me how little he thought of her. Killing her in secret in his home wasn’t his style. But I had to try. Using the keypad, I bypassed the fingerprint lock, using his passcode instead. It still worked. Sawyer knew he was my kill. Why hadn’t he changed the code?

The crack under the door to the kitchen glowed. I opened it, revealing two staff members preparing breakfast.

“Mr. Feldman,” one of them said. “Can we help you?”

I bowed my head, then closed the door and went up the stairs. The door to my brother’s office was closed, a dim light emanating from behind the door. I pushed it open.

Behind the desk, he scanned his ultrawide computer monitor.

“She’s not here,” he said, already anticipating my words. I waited for him to attack or give some clever response, but he continued scrutinizing the monitor. A full minute passed before he spoke: “What do you want?”

“Who has her?”

“What do you think?”

My instincts had been to go to the Dairy Barn because if my father or brother had captured her, they would have made her death a show. I had checked both of their houses on the off chance that they were keeping her a secret.

But if that wasn’t the case, then wherever she was, Maisie had gone there by choice.

A heaviness settled on my chest. I didn’t know which was worse. If they had her, then I would know what needed to be done. But when it came to this—Maisie leaving me, like I told her to—I didn’t know what was the best move: follow and protect her, or let her go? I left Sawyer’s office and found myself under the first shimmers of dawn.

The train tunnel.

I checked the GPS tracking app and confirmed it. I should have checked the app first, but I had assumed she had been captured. It was another example of how she had ruined me. I couldn’t think straight. Nothing about our relationship was easy. And that’s what it was supposed to be: easy to conform, easy to get rid of.

At the train tunnel, I ran to the first safety alcove. She wasn’t there. I went to the second. A figure crouched in the corner, knees against her chest. I could barely see her shape.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Maisie sniffled. My muscles tensed. This was emotional manipulation. It was my weakness. And it drained me of all the rage I had inside of me. I wanted to hold her in my arms.

“Tell me the truth, Wilder,” she said quietly. “If I was gone, would you be relieved?”

I thought about those words. To some extent, I would be. I told myself I hadn’t killed her because I didn’t care about her either way, but now I knew that wasn’t true. If I had killed her in the beginning, life would be easier for both of us.

And there was one truth that I couldn’t deny: Someone would kill her.

My father. My brother. Me.

And if anyone was going to do it, it should be me. She deserved that respect.

I grabbed her hand, trying to pull her up. She didn’t move. I grabbed her by the waist, throwing her over my shoulder. She hit my back. The ground rumbled. Maisie tensed, gripping my shirt. I ran down the tunnel, Maisie bouncing on my shoulder. The train whistle bellowed into the tunnel, and I reached for the light. The air shifted. Past the first alcove. Running down the track. I could have thrown her down. Left her to die.

But we reached the edge of the tunnel and I ran to the side, away from the train, throwing her to the ground. A few seconds later, the train burst out. The two of us panted. Tears streamed down Maisie’s face. She ran her fingers over the scar on her hand as if it calmed her. As if it reminded her that she was real. That she was vulnerable.

I had saved her again, and I didn’t know why. I didn’t understand why any of this mattered.

In the car, she watched everything go past the window. She must have thought she was heading toward the executioner’s block. And she was.

Once we were in my house, I bound her wrists behind her back, pocketing some extra rope. Tossed a hood over her head. Then I led her through the property, making sure that the staff saw me, hoping that my father and brother would be notified. Onto the UTV. Through the pastures. Down to the pond. My mother had kneeled at the edge, waiting for my father to take her life. Had she known what Forrest was going to do? Or did she think he would let her go?

Maise stood at the bank of the pond, her shoes touching the murky water. I pulled off the hood. She sucked in a breath.

“Kneel,” I said. She didn’t move.

I pressed my foot into the back of her knee until she fell, splashing into the water.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said.

But there was nothing that could save us. I gripped her shoulder with one hand, my other palm on the back of her neck. My body tensed.

“Wilder,” she whispered.

I shoved her into the water and she threw me back with more force than I anticipated. I pushed her down again. It would only take a few minutes. But each second dragged on. Why didn’t this seem right? She twisted her torso, jerking away from me, and I fell off, distracted, momentarily letting her gasp for air. Mud streaked cheeks. Her pale lips. They weren’t painted dark today. Like she knew what was coming. That this was it.

I kneeled down, resting my weight on her back, pushing her down. She whimpered and I grabbed her head, ready to do it again. The memory of my father leaning on my mother’s back surfaced. Had he felt anything for her in those moments? Had her death felt right to him? Better than it did for me now?

Was that why he had made me kill her instead?

I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand, smearing dirt on my skin.

“Say goodbye to everything you love,” I said.

“I love you, Wilder,” Maisie whispered.

Coldness washed over me, my skin perspiring at those words.

“I love you,” she said slowly.

There was no mistaking it.

Every heartbeat that shuddered through me reminded me that she was there. That this wasn’t just about me. And it wasn’t just about her. My stomach dropped and I pulled back. Tears streaked her cheeks, mixed with muck and water. If she hadn’t said those three words, it would have been easier.

It would only take a few minutes. A few minutes, and then I would be able to concentrate again. A few minutes and I could forget her.

There was no future.

But I couldn’t let this be her end.

I dropped my grip on her. I had to do something. Had to take a step. Any step.

As long as she was somewhere else. Where nothing would harm her.

I pulled her into my arms. She sobbed but didn’t say a word. I carried her the long way through the pastures, through the trees, so that there was less of a chance that someone would see us. She needed to get off of the property. Away from me. She shivered against me, sniveling. It was manipulative. And still, my stomach sank.

In my house, I put her inside of the bathroom, starting a hot shower. I threw all of her stuff into a bag. An hour later, we were back at the woods surrounding the train tunnel. A duffle bag was in her lap.

I got out of the car, but Maisie stayed in her seat. A blood vessel throbbed in my forehead. I opened her car door, unbuckling her, then pulled her from the seat.

I set her down in the middle of the trees. Her brown eyes were full, asking me everything she couldn’t say, but there was nothing I could do to change this. I wasn’t going to let Sawyer or Forrest kill her. And since I couldn’t do it myself, this was the only choice we had.

“I’ll send a lawyer with the divorce papers,” I said.

Her bottom lip trembled. I looked away. Didn’t she know she was better off without me?

“Don’t come back to Feldman Farms,” I said.

“You can’t do this,” she said, but nothing else came out.

This was our only option.

I turned toward the car.

“Don’t run away,” she shouted. Her voice quivered with nerves. “That’s what I did with my little sister. It never fixes anything.”

I knew that this choice only created more problems for me.

“I’m not trying to fix this,” I said.

But she was right. I would always be left wondering where she was. If she was safe. Protected. If she ever thought of me.

This was her only chance for survival.

“You’re better than this,” she said.

But I wasn’t.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to protest, but I put a hand on her shoulder, begging her to see me. To understand.

I let go.

“This is our only choice,” I said.