His Brutal Game by Audrey Rush

CHAPTER 21

Maisie

I watched until I couldn’t see his car anymore. Then I faced the trail that led to the Pierce Park Tunnel. I had walked this path hundreds of times, but right then, it seemed daunting. A path I was afraid to take. Afraid to see that there was nothing on the other side.

I let my feet take me there anyway. Down the empty tunnel. When I was a teenager, I had learned the schedule, as if that would have prevented my sister from dying. But I had forgotten all of that.

I laid down on the tracks, staring into the darkness. When would the next train come?

A surge of adrenaline tightened my stomach, thinking of lying on the tracks as Wilder fucked my mouth. It had been so intense, the wooden slats digging into the back of my head, his balls slapping my chin, his cock forcing down my throat. We had both been playing with fate. Even when he was restrained, Wilder had completely owned me. But I had never truly been afraid of him. I had this instinct inside of me that said he would save me if it came down to it, even if that meant shoving me out of the way before the train took him too.

I pushed myself to my feet. I sat in the safety alcove. There were so many things that were out of my control, but I could control this.

I dialed Bambi, but the call went straight to voicemail. I waited a few minutes and tried her again, but there was still no answer. Maybe it was better this way. I had gotten Bambi into so much trouble before, and now, I would probably do it again. Maybe it was better to leave her alone.

Like it was better to leave Wilder alone.

But that was stupid. Wilder had one objective: to kill. I shouldn’t have felt guilty for thwarting that plan.

I dialed Fiona, my older sister. The phone rang a few times, then went to voicemail too. I dialed again, hoping that she would realize it was important. This time, she picked up.

“Hello?” Fiona asked.

“Hey,” I said.

A breath escaped her lips. “Maisie?”

“Guilty,” I said. “By any chance, could you pick me up at the train tunnel?”

An hour later, Fiona pulled up in a red sedan, the hood dented in, the same car she had gotten when we were in high school. I put my bag in the trunk and took the seat next to her.

“What are you doing over here?” she asked. I lifted my shoulders. I couldn’t explain it to her, and yet I couldn’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks. I wiped them away quickly. Fiona fidgeted in her seat, obviously uncomfortable with my display of emotion. But screw it. She was one of the few people I could be myself around. She knew my biggest fault. “Where are we going?” she asked.

A few seconds passed by. “I don’t know,” I finally said.

She kept driving anyway. I was grateful that she wasn’t making a fuss out of it. On the highway, the radio switched to a commercial, and she punched it off. I flicked the air vents; the air conditioning was sporadic in her car.

“Can I ask for your advice about something?” she asked. She must have been annoyed by my fidgeting. Better to make conversation than to let me stew.

But then it dawned on me: was Perfect Fiona actually asking me for help?

“Shoot,” I said.

“What do I do about Mom and Dad?”

I wrinkled my nose. “What about them?”

“I’m failing.” She said the words so quickly I almost didn’t understand them. My jaw dropped. I blinked at her.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

I faced forward, completely dumbstruck. My sister was flawless. The straight As student. The obedient rule follower. The chore-doer. The class president. The all-around overachiever. I hadn’t checked her social media profiles in a while, but the last I had seen, she was in medical school. She had started her first year.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “You want to become a doctor, right?”

“My head’s not in it.”

I could understand that. Still, it confused me coming from her.

“I thought you always wanted to be a doctor,” I said.

“Mom and Dad wanted me to.”

I sunk down in my seat. Fiona failing out of medical school seemed surreal. What other beliefs did I have about my family that weren’t real?

But Fiona was asking for my help. She wasn’t asking me for my opinion.

“So what’s up?” I asked. “You’re failing? You, like, need a study buddy or something?”

She laughed, then shook her head. “Mom and Dad are in debt.”

I shrugged. “That was their choice. They decided to put you through school.”

“They don’t know that I dropped out.”

My stomach sank. The secret pinned it all in place. “How long has it been?”

“A month.”

A month was a long time for her to keep such a secret. Was there any way I could help her? One day, our parents would find out, and she would have to explain what had happened to them. There wouldn’t be an easy way out; I had learned that with our little sister. And somehow, they had forgiven me. And if they could forgive me, then they had to do the same for Fiona.

Maybe that was what Wilder needed: to learn how to forgive himself.

“I’m a failure,” Fiona whispered, breaking into my thoughts.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said. I was the runaway middle child who had gotten her little sister killed, started doing sex work because my best friend fell for a pimp, and married a hitman. Fiona simply couldn’t pretend to want to be a doctor anymore.

So no one was perfect. Not even Fiona. And especially not me.

Wilder had to learn that being imperfect was okay.

“They’ve always held you to unreasonable standards,” I continued. Just like Wilder had done to himself. He needed to see his circumstances honestly; yes, he was a killer—there was no denying that. But he had been a kid when all of that had happened with his mother. It wasn’t fair for him to hold on to that guilt, just like it wasn’t fair to Fiona.

And maybe that’s what was happening to us. He was showing me that he cared in the only way he knew how: by pushing me away.

He was saving me.

The weight vanished from my shoulders. I wasn’t good with pep talks, but Fiona knew that.

“One day, they’re going to figure it out,” I said. “But you can always stay with me if you need to hide. Anything like that. I’ll protect you.” I winked and she smiled. “I’m sure my husband won’t mind.” At least, I hoped he wouldn’t.

And for now, Wilder was still my husband. I had to make sure he stayed that way. No one understood me like he did, and he must have felt the same way about me.

Fiona lifted a brow. “You’re married?”

“A lot can happen in five years.”

“You’re telling me,” she laughed. “But thank you for offering that.”

I glanced around, trying to figure out where to go. I couldn’t go back to the Feldman Farm, but I needed to see Wilder again. Where could I go?

“Can you drop me off at the monthly motel?” I asked.

Fiona took the first available u-turn. “What’s at the motel?”

“You remember Bambi?” I asked. Fiona nodded. That was her nickname, even before we started working. “She’s hanging there right now.”

Fiona bowed her head, opting not to ask questions. At the motel, she reached over for a hug, and I hugged her back.

“You have my number now,” I said, motioning to her phone on the console. “If you need a break from Mom or Dad, you can call me.”

“Thanks,” she said.

I went to the same room that we always rented. The shades were pulled close and the lights were off. Bambi was probably sleeping. I took a deep breath. I could stay with Bambi, using the money I had leftover from Wilder. And I could call Wilder, telling him to meet me here. Away from his family. That way, I was still doing what he said—staying away from the farm while being close to him. And then we could leave. Together. We could figure it out, one choice at a time.

I knocked, but there was no answer. I used my old key card; the door automatically locked behind me. The room was still, the air stale. I flipped the switch; dim lights flickered on. An open lip gloss was on the nightstand. A bottle of ibuprofen next to the sink. One of the complimentary glass cups was filled with room-temperature soda. Bambi had been here recently. Was she working?

Bambi’s purse was lying next to the bed.

Blood fluttered in my veins. She didn’t go anywhere without her purse. I ran out to the parking lot. A few cars. Some trees. Crinkled junk mail drifting across the asphalt. Back in the motel room, I flipped over the mattress and the bedsheets. Ripped everything out of the closet and the desk drawer, trying to find a sign. A note. Anything. Her phone was dead, and her wallet still had money inside. It was like she had disappeared into thin air.

I dialed the front desk, but they had a strict policy about people like us. They weren’t any help. I found my charger, then plugged in Bambi’s phone. Maybe there would be a clue on her device.

Someone tried to open the door. Chills ran through me. For a second, I thought about Green. How angry he would be when he found out that she was gone. Like it was my fault. But he was dead. And he would have a key card. I searched for Green’s gun, but couldn’t find it. Then the lock beeped, letting the person enter.

Sawyer stepped inside. A few guards—ranchers I recognized from the farm—rushed in. Adrenaline spiked through me. I ran to the bathroom, scrambling to lock the door, but a man grabbed my legs, dragging me across the carpet.

“Your brother will kill you for this!” I screamed.

“I hope he does,” Sawyer said, grinning. He checked his watch. “How is it that he let you get this far away?”

I twisted in their grip, but handcuffs slammed onto my wrists, locking into position.

“You will never get away with this,” I hissed.

Sawyer chuckled, then bent down, meeting my eyes. “I don’t want to ‘get away with this.’ The opposite—I hope Wilder comes after me. That will make the rest of the Trial better.” He shook his head. “But he doesn’t love you as much as you think he does.”

I bit my lip and yelled as loud as I could, hoping that the front desk clerk or people in the other rooms would hear something, but no one ever did. We minded our business. And now, I was going to pay for it.

The ranchers threw me into the back of the SUV. They pried my mouth open, gagging me. Locked me inside. The scenery flashed by the windows. Banged my head on the glass, trying to break it, but it was no use. A headache pulsed through me. I recognized the trees, the grassy areas. We were going back to the farm. Wilder would be there.

But that didn’t mean that I would be safe. He had told me to never come back.

But I wanted to believe that Sawyer was wrong. Wilder loved me, more than he realized. That’s why he trusted me, even when it was obvious he didn’t want to. Why he cared when he knew he shouldn’t.

Outside of the SUV, a cage was set on a rolling cart. My cuffs were removed, then the ranchers shoved me inside. I grabbed onto the bars, trying to find a weakness anywhere.

“You are sick,” I hissed. “You traitor—”

One of the ranchers opened the door, then shoved a ball gag back into my mouth, covering it with a cloth.

“I’m sick?” Sawyer asked. “You’re the one who got my fucked-up brother to actually sleep with you.”

The ranchers rolled the cart between the equipment. The Feldman Farm carried on as usual. I screamed, but no one acknowledged me. I tried to search for Wilder, but there were only the other ranchers. Where was he?

The cart stopped behind the Calving Barn. I looked around, trying to figure out how to get out of the cage, if there was any escape. Light brown hair caught my eye. Those big round eyes. A woman crouched in a similar cage next to me, a gag in her mouth, her face streaked with makeup. Bambi.

Where was Wilder?