Rat Race (Devil’s Playground #2)

4. Aubrey

Aubrey

I’m coming for you!

T hat useless fucking bitch wasn’t just ahead of me.

She was two heats ahead of me.

I was agnostic at best—as if I’d let some fucking man tell me what I could and couldn’t do. Especially one who only spoke to me through a book that was written thousands of years ago by—you guessed it— men ! But if I did believe in God or a higher power or… whatever , I knew one thing and one thing only.

He had it out for me.

It was the only explanation for how the fuck this was happening to me again.

Sure, starting in fourth wasn’t an immediate loss, but it was no secret that the sooner you got in, the better chance you had at getting to the end first. There were risks, at no point did you enter the maze without them, but the slightly increased chances of running headfirst into a trap didn’t mean shit in comparison to a damn near half-hour head start. Besides, if you had half a brain, you could easily avoid them.

Just needed to be observant.

Basically, the same skills as searching for an actual staple piece at the outlet mall instead of last season’s dime-a-dozen already out of fashion rejects.

Easy .

Only an idiot would think our positions were a coincidence. The Architects had planned who would go first as carefully as they had laid the traps to kill us. It was all for the good of the show.

For entertainment and wow factor—the Bachelorette for people with loose morals around killing. Who was I kidding? With the do-or-die attitude of some of those men? Same audience.

So why?

Why, why, why, why?

How the fuck am I in lot four ?

I’d caught glimpses of the first heat as they stepped up onto the raised platforms, waiting for the catwalk to bridge the gap between them and the maze.

The fan favorites were unmissable—the last Ranch prodigy from the actual Weston line in the first group, no surprise there. But what was shocking? Hiram Wolff, a Legacy in his own right from his win decades ago in Hide N’ Seek in heat three . Still waiting to even be allowed onto the platforms.

Even more shocking? I’d barely fucking noticed him, save for the way that everyone was giving him a wide berth like he had some sort of disease. I’d been too distracted by the Weston. My eyes caught on their wide shoulders, the cut-off sleeves of their black top only accentuating their muscular, heavily tattooed arms. The cowboy hat was a bit on the nose for my taste, but given I was dressed like Sailor Moon’s slutty sister, I figured I should probably shut up.

But Hiram? That was worth noting, maybe even more than the veritable eye candy.

I’d never seen the Architects put one of their own in the ring, so whatever he’d done… it had to have been explosive.

Interesting.

I shuffled my feet, platform boots sinking slightly in the plasticized grass where I waited under a large banner that read four .

But Hiram’s fall from grace wasn’t the only thing pulling my attention around the room. There was something else that factored into Rat Race in a way that the other events lacked: the live audience.

In Hide N’ Seek, the closest the watchers could get was through a phone screen—simply wouldn’t do for a stray bullet to take out a paying customer, right? That left all the spectating to be done through large TVs and mobile phones. And Truth or Dare was too unpredictable in location for there to be a real studio audience factor. But this?

This was marketing gold.

The Company sold tickets at a premium, obviously , allowing our more affluent supporters the opportunity to glimpse us right before we went inside.

For some Runners—what they called the idiots who entered the maze—it would be the last time they’d be seen alive.

Idiots like me.

The semicircular stadium was filled to bursting. Watchers clutching popcorn and soft drinks alongside handmade signs for their favorite players. I spotted my name and face splashed across a few, some of my supporters even going so far as to have custom T-shirts, my own practiced smile staring back at me like a repeating mirror.

I searched the stands, finding my manager in the lower bowl beside the Mantene executives that’d signed off on my check. Sandy was a fucking cougar more interested in bagging her barely legal assistant than she was the success of her clients, but she was also cutthroat.

Ruthless.

The kind of woman that could get shit done.

Which made us a perfect match.

She pulled her bottle-copper hair around one side, flashing her shoulder at me in an obvious order to move my hair off the back of my jacket.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, complying with a fake-ass smile that earned me a thumbs up and a double-handed fake grab at her boobs with a smirk that I’d guessed meant she approved of my outfit.

Fucking perv. If I gave her half an inch, I knew she’d like nothing more than to be three acrylics deep in me.

As if.

Mine weren’t the only sponsors to show up for their players, not to mention the holographic adverts that played while the countdown ran on the massive screen above, warning the next heat of players that their time to enter the maze was rapidly approaching.

I even caught myself on one of them. Smiling like it was my birthday before applying a thick layer of Purrfect Pout lip plumper.

To be fair, I actually liked the product—though nowhere near enough to front the sixty-five-dollar price point. Besides, it wasn’t the lip plumper that gave me this signature pout. It was filler.

Duh .

The crowd was restless. Excited conversation and cheers turning into a welcome backing track as I waited for my chance to finally get my hands on the bitch. A task that’d be made more difficult by her sizable head start. But hey, I had always been good at catching up.

As it was, I didn't give two shits about the people behind me. As soon as I was placed in the large circle-shaped waiting area, my eyes sought her out.

It didn’t matter that everyone had glowing masks. Or that many of the costumes were… distracting , to say the least. I found her almost immediately.

Natalie Phillips .

Turns out that after a lifetime of living in someone’s shadow, you get pretty good at identifying them from behind. Especially after you factored in me chasing behind her as she raced ahead with her grubby little hands outstretched to grab ahold of literally everything I ever wanted.

Well, except cheer captain. Shout out to Vic for that one.

She was dressed in a light purple two-piece outfit that reminded me of our old cheer uniforms, warm brown hair styled in a lightly curled bouncy ponytail with a glittering bow. Her mask, a matching purple one with hearts for eyes, was sitting securely over her face.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

Could you be any more cliche?

Talk about peaked in fucking high school.

I’d imagined running up behind her and attacking her when she least expected it more times than I could count, if only to pass the time.

It was the least she deserved after the humiliation she put me through. After the years of coming in second.

Unacceptable .

My face burned just thinking about it.

There was only one thing that stopped me. Murder was illegal. It wouldn’t bode well for an obvious front-runner such as myself to get banned from the Games before they even started.

I might not be a Legacy but I was as good as one—my mom worked in the Architects’ office for most of my life. That meant status. Prestige.

Even if I did miss out on the media perks.

Just another way that cunt outshined me. The genetic fucking lottery.

But whatever, I just made sure to make my own. My beauty channel grew in subscribers every day. And four months after I turned eighteen and my after-dark channel went live, it exploded.

I mean, obviously .

The way I saw it, there wasn’t much I could do in there to fuck this up aside from dying. Not a chance I’d lower myself back to the working class. No hate to the people who served me coffee—they were providing the essential service of making sure I was caffeinated enough not to go to jail — but fuck that . I’d rather bleed out in the concrete death box, thanks.

It’d be downright embarrassing… and I couldn’t take much more humiliation after what Natalie did.

I needed to redeem myself.

No, fuck that. I needed to eviscerate her.

It was just my luck she entered the Games because it totally solved all the pesky legalities associated with what I wanted to do to her.

The Games had rules, of course, what game didn’t? But most of them had to do with the staff. The other players? They were free-range.

Fuck them.

Kill them.

Hell, you could probably resort to cannibalism if you could do it in a way that made people hand over their wallets.

The Architects didn’t give a fuck as long as they were getting a good show out of it.

And if there was one thing I could do was give a satisfying performance.

I didn’t care about the money. I had more than I needed from my family— hello trust fund —and sponsorships. Fuck, I didn’t even care if I made it to the end at all.

There was only one goal that meant anything to me, as I watched her stupid high pony bouncing with her every movement.

I need to get to her.

As long as I could finally get my claws into Natalie, the rest would be worth it. Even if it did cost me my life. At least I’d be going out knowing that I’d gotten mine.

What? Was I just supposed to let some sleazebag stranger kill her? Or worse, her own stupidity when she inevitably fell into some trap?

That girl’s blood belonged to me from the moment she dared step into my spotlight. And I was here to collect.

The timer reached the ten-second mark, the crowd beginning to chant the dwindling numbers as we were bathed in red light for a second time.

It seemed to go faster this time, the infectious energy of the crowd making my heart beat faster in my chest.

Once the light flipped to green, the catwalks snapping into place with a loud metallic click that was nearly drowned by the cheers and screams overhead, the Runners jerked into motion.

I watched with distaste as the girl who ruined my entire life was first in through the doors. The opening was large enough for me to see her turn to the left, but that was as far as I got.

No matter. I’d spent enough time chasing after her that I was confident I’d be able to think like her. I’d track her down in seconds, minutes if she was lucky.

The thought of cornering her in the maze had taken over my mind. Every waking minute since turning eighteen had been consumed by the fantasy of her death. It was rotting my mind, coating the surface like novocain. Making everything else duller by comparison.

It would be such sweet revenge. Not only would everyone watching see just how much better I was than her, but all those back home that dared look down on me would realize that I wasn't one to fuck around with. That they’ve made a horrible mistake.

Overhead, the screens changed, calling lot three to take the podiums as the catwalks moved back to the ground. The timer counted down, warning them their preparation period was quickly ending.

The screams I’d become accustomed to lowered to a murmur, the crowd whispering and jeering as Hiram took his podium. Even in his mask the man was obvious—the thing about Devil’s Playground is there wasn’t an age cap, not really. But it was, mostly, a young person’s game.

Dude had to be pushing fucking fifty if the silvery hair poking out of the top of his mask was any indicator.

“Think he can feel the eyes on him?” A light, feminine voice asked from my left.

“Like being in the lion’s den,” I replied. There wasn’t a single predator in this room that wouldn’t be enticed by Vic’s bounty.

Not to mention… free rein to kill an Architect? Even if he was disgraced there had to be a few Runners who would, well, kill for the chance. What a way to make a name for yourself.

Vic was a fucking genius. She could’ve let this play out with no interference; the likelihood of a man his age making it out of the maze was already statistically destitute. But to turn his own players against him?

To make the game he designed his prison?

I could fucking come from the cruelty of it.

Hiram’s entire body was rigid, eyes scanning the crowd every few seconds like he really thought they’d kill him while he waited to be let into the maze.

A paranoid bastard if I ever saw one.

To be fair, maybe someone would take a swing on the way in. Vic wanted a laugh after all.

I could smell the stench of fear on him even from yards away. Fucking pathetic .

The timer hit zero, and lot three ran in there, desperation starting to show as Runners sprinted the length of the catwalk to disappear through the gates and into the maze.

I pushed forward with the crowd, breaking out to the front as the timer reset, waiting for my moment now.

“Aubrey! Aubrey! Aubrey!!!” I could hear my supporters chanting over the casual screaming now, earning a big smile and a wave as I turned on the spot, making sure to show off the logos on my jacket.

The clips of this moment would be all over every social media platform for the rest of my life, so I might as well take the time to play it up for the audience.

Electricity buzzed through the stadium. The remaining Runners with anxiety as their time drew closer. The watchers with excitement for the game to really begin.

Screams for favorite players. Curses for those they hated.

I loved it.

The seconds weighed on me, our waiting period feeling like hours instead of minutes. My heart pounded in my chest, blood rushing through my ears, making everything sound far away and tinny.

This was it.

My big opportunity.

All eyes were on the large interlocking doors as they opened, giving a sneak peek into the maze, even if it was only for a few feet. It was pitch black beyond the doorway, covered on all sides.

The only way out was through.

After the last lot, the doors would shut permanently, locking us in until we found our way to the other side or time ran out.

Well, unless we were being removed in a body bag. Not that I’d let that happen—black had never been my color.

As the numbers got smaller, I bent slightly at the knees, making sure to breathe deeply before I pushed off. My mind was in a flurry, thinking of every possible way I could run into her. How I would finally get the revenge that I craved so deeply.

If I was lucky, I’d find a weapon on the inside. But I wasn’t above using my bare hands to choke the cunt to death if I had to.

I forced myself to quiet down, counting with the crowd, trying to match the numbers with my breathing.

My body tensed as my turn got closer and closer.

The crowd.

The players.

Everything faded into a sea of white noise, laser-focused into one thing and one thing only .

Her.

I’m coming for you.

The lights turned green, the audible click of the catwalk snapping into place barely registering. My body moved before my mind could catch up. Players all around me shouted as it was their turn to race toward the entrance. I wasn’t there to race, but getting in the maze before the others would only help me get to her faster.

Adrenaline ran through me, pumping my legs faster than ever. I pushed past the wall of bodies, the anxiety in the air only making me that much more excited.

There were others stronger than me, who had more experience, were more vicious, but I was faster .

Despite how many were assigned to my gate, I was the first of my group to make it in, and I made an immediate left.

The temperature dropped five degrees as I entered the concrete-enclosed maze. Dim lights were spaced throughout, but they flickered in and out, causing gaps in my vision as I pushed my legs faster. The noise from the crowd and the players who were stuck fighting at the entrance faded into the background, leaving just me, the pounding of my platformed feet against the concrete floor, and my thoughts.

I’m late. She’s probably already way ahead.

Frustration gnawed at me as I tried to orient myself. Turns out a completely enclosed maze was hard to navigate. No sun to give you any idea of the direction you were headed.

Just your intuition and a whole lot of hope.

Screams rang throughout the halls, echoing until they died down. The noise was coming from my right, and I took a sharp turn toward it.

I wasn’t in it to save myself, and I didn’t so much need the money. So the only logical option was for me to head straight into danger and just pray that I could get to her before one of the traps could.

The closer I got, the easier it was to make out the noise, the screams needing to hit fewer surfaces before they reached me. It wasn’t just one. It was multiple.

Meaning there is a chance she’s there too.

There was an empty rack as I took the next turn. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. If I’d been in an earlier lot, I probably would’ve been able to grab whatever had been on it—weapons, medical supplies, fuck, even a bottle of water would’ve been welcome. But that was the thing about being in lot four. I was just going to have to learn to make do.

I rounded the next turn, nearly stumbling over a body lying across the path, blood pooling beneath it in a puddle on the floor. The other players either hadn’t tried to avoid it or hadn’t been able to, leaving a trail of sticky, crimson footsteps on the concrete.

A pair of Runners were fighting in the distance, their masks glowing yellow and green in the dim light. It was hard to tell who had the upper hand, the pair clashing violently with their fists.

A bit barbaric, really. But I didn’t have time to worry about that, not with disappointment clawing at my throat like when I’d lost out on Homecoming Queen.

Natalie wasn’t here.

I cursed under my breath.

Another left, maybe?

Just as I was about to move on from the fighting pair, movement further down the hall caught my eye. My spirits lifted immediately at my good luck.

Hello, cunt.

She was down at the end of the hallway, watching it all. Of course that cunt had her nose in everyone’s business.

A smile twisted my face, and a crazed chuckle passed my lips.

Got you .

I charged forward and right into the fighting men with my shoulder, the force of my body colliding with them knocking them to the ground. Their surprised shout rang through the hallway, smearing some of the blood from their brawl across my arms as they tried to grab me.

One got a hold of my jacket, but I slipped out of the heavy material with ease. Nothing was going to keep me from my goal. Not even a fucking contract.

Curses followed me as I ran after the girl.

“Hey!”

“Fucking bitch!”

But their shouts returned to grunts and sickening blows of flesh against flesh as one of them used my distraction to get an upper hand on the other. I didn't have to look back to know that one of them was probably sinking a blade into the other’s chest. The grunts and pained gurgling told me all I needed to know.

Which meant I needed to get the fuck out of here and fast. Deal with my little problem and get as much distance between me and an armed man twice my size as quickly as possible.

Natalie hadn’t expected me to come right at her, something that was made obvious by the panicked noise she released when her singular brain cell worked out that I was barreling toward her. She turned on her heel, sprinting for the end of the hall and then hastily turning to the right.

I was right behind her, almost enough to touch. I took my chance, reaching my hand out in an attempt to grab her. Her long, flowy locks brushed my fingertips, but it wasn’t enough to hold on, the end of her dark ponytail slipping through my fingers like water.

Like every opportunity she’d ever stolen from me.

So close.

So close I could taste the sweetness of revenge on my tongue, not to be confused with her cheap, overly vanilla perfume. And it’d been so easy.

We passed another opening, and not one, but three people were rushing down the hallway toward us and away from something. I skidded to a halt in order not to crash right into them.

It was all the time Natalie needed to disappear from my line of vision, dipping around a corner.

Fuck, are you kidding me?

A hard body slamming into mine knocked me off balance and sent me sprawling. Pain shot up my back as my ass came into contact with the hard floor.

They were running from something. Was it this person?

I raised my shaking hand on instinct.

“Please!” I forced out in a high-pitched whine, the second part of my strategy for the maze coming into play sooner than I would’ve liked as I kept my eyes screwed tightly shut, braced for impact. “Please don’t hurt me, I just want to get out of here!”

But the blow I was waiting for never came. Heavy panting reached my ears, the seconds ticking by making me curious. I peeled my eyes open to come face to face with… Hiram . He was breathing heavily, a broken-off spike in one of his clenched fists.

Where the hell did he get a weapon already?

But if they were running from him… I could use this.

“Please,” I whimpered and pushed myself to my knees, clutching at his clothes desperately. “Don’t hurt me! We can help each other!”

“Help each other?” he said, tilting his head to the side as he stepped out of my hold. He was still breathing heavily from the chase, obviously not used to this type of workout.

Turns out a couple decades in the Architect’s office wasn’t so good for your cardio. Good. It meant that, if I needed to, I’d be able to get away from him.

Or maybe I’d turn on him myself—claim Vic’s money. Either way, I could decide later; for now, I needed to convince him not to kill me. And to prioritize going after Natalie.

I nodded quickly. “For traps, you know?” I explained and inched toward him on my knees on the hard floor, my hands out, palms facing him. “Please? I’m begging . I’ll help you any way I can, be loyal only to you .”

His eyes shifted to the side as the sound of footsteps reached us. Not just one, but multiple people were likely on our trail—he had a choice to make, and quickly.

Either the weak, innocent young girl promising him loyalty for a bit of his help or other players that likely wanted him for the bounty.

There was a heavy pause, Hiram’s dark eyes meeting mine before he gave a sharp nod.

“I want to get out of here in record time, okay?” he said and motioned for me to follow him. I had to hope he picked the same path as Natalie, though, without seeing where she went myself, his guess was as good as mine.

“Yes, sir,” I replied and forced myself to my feet, trotting obediently along after him, trying and failing to keep the smile off my face.