Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
“Back up!” Tyler barked, shoving the clown in the chest in a desperate bid to clear his path.
The clown looked down nonchalantly where Tyler’s hands had made contact, then locked eyes with him and pushed back hard, sending Tyler tumbling to the floor. He scrambled to get up, but the clown played a twisted game of denial, blocking every attempt Tyler made to bypass it.
It was clear the clown was toying with him, drawing out his desperation for our morbid entertainment. As the final seconds of Tyler’s timer dwindled, the clown’s hand disappeared into its voluminous costume, emerging with a grotesquely oversized, serrated knife. The clown’s movements were chillingly deliberate as they advanced on Tyler, who was frantically trying to escape. With a swift, practiced motion, the clown slashed across his back, the sound of tearing fabric followed by a raw scream as the blade split open his flesh.
“Oof.” I winced as the blade immediately sliced again, creating a deep crimson X.
Then, he did it again.
And again.
He sliced back and forth, all the while Tyler sobbed and tried to crawl away, blood pooling down his back and onto the floor. Someone gagged, losing their stomach to the scene. If this was all it took to unsettle them, they were in for a rough ride if they survived this first challenge.
“It’s killing him! Someone do something!” Janelle shrieked.
A few contestants squirmed in their seats, caught between the instinct to help and the realization that interfering was a fool’s errand. Personally, I found the notion of heroics in this game laughably naive.
From the back, a guy’s voice, tinged with irritation, called out to Janelle, “Do you not get that this is part of the challenge? He failed.”
Janice, clearly on the verge of hysteria, shot back, “So we just let him die?”
What had she been expecting? “If you’re so upset, why don’t you jump in and save him? Otherwise, zip it and watch.”
She bristled, but Eryx, who had observed the situation with a calm detachment that I found incredibly attractive, cut in smoothly, “As Kinks pointed out, you’re welcome to join him if you’re so concerned.”
Kinks? Since when had we ventured into nickname territory? And why did I find myself liking how that sounded? Especially the way it effortlessly slipped from his lips ...
Tyler’s screams stopped abruptly.
He was either dead or had mercifully lost consciousness. I hoped for his sake it was the latter. The clown, ever the performer, sheathed his knife with theatrical flair and seized Tyler by the ankles, dragging him toward the exit. At the bottom of the stairs, it paused to bow, its grotesque mask turning towards us as if awaiting applause before resuming its task. Tyler’s body, now mutilated with long ribbons of flesh dragging along the ground, reminded me of a Thanksgiving turkey, carved up and ready to serve.
The room buzzed with a mix of sniffling and murmurs as the clown and Tyler vanished from sight. I couldn’t help but admire the clown’s dedication to its role—it was utterly captivating. Janelle’s cries echoed louder without the music to muffle them. I glanced at Aisha and smothered a laugh when I caught the major side-eye she was giving her.
It wasn’t as if I was a totally heartless villainess. I was sure there might have been a backstory I wasn’t privy to—maybe she and Tyler were closer than I’d realized.
However, that didn’t make much sense to me.
If that had been one of my people down there, I’d have stormed the floor, rules be damned. Her over-the-top display of despair seemed excessive, considering she wouldn’t get up out of her chair for him. Seriously, the melodrama was peaking, and Judicium had barely started. If there was any real sympathy to be doled out, it should have been for Tyler’s family, who might’ve just watched his final moments. I sure wouldn’t want my folks to see me go out so early on. How utterly embarrassing would that be? My brothers would never let me live it down.
I checked the screen. There were fifty minutes were left on the clock, three keys still out there, and one less competitor.
I leaned toward Raphael, unable to resist commenting. “Well, that sets the stage, doesn’t it? Drama aside, this is shaping up to be quite the spectacle.”
He gave me a look, a spark of humor in his stunning eyes. “Certainly seems that way,” he agreed smoothly. “And I doubt the remaining keys will come any easier.”
“I’m not worried about that. I think we’ll find them. Every single one,” I declared.
His smile deepened, acknowledging my determination. “With that kind of confidence, I certainly wouldn’t bet against us.”
The screen shifted again, our seats lighting up in green as if the Syndicate was telling us to back up our words with seven minutes now counting down.
Seven minutes we couldn’t afford to waste.