Psychopath's Prey Read online

  Psychopath’s Prey

  V. F. Mason

  Contents

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Also By V.F. Mason

  Contact

  Copyright © 2018 by V. F. Mason

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Edited by Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Design: Hang Le, by Hang Le

  Photographer: Olivier Lachance Photographe

  Cover Model: Rusty Blade

  Formatting and Design: Mayhem Cover Creations

  To the power of love.

  Prologue

  Ella

  The sweat is dripping down my back as I inhale the smell of lavender and roses, and my legs take me farther and farther into the field. The only sounds available are my feet slapping the ground and my gulps of breath while I put all my power, or what is left of it, into running. I ignore my blisters and how hunger almost makes it impossible to move, let alone fight.

  I can’t let him get me; it will mean he wins.

  Not noticing the slippery wet spot in front of me, I fall down on my ass, causing pain to burst through my body. Biting down on my lip, I allow the metallic taste of blood to enter my dry mouth that hasn't had water or anything else to drink for ten hours straight now.

  Maybe I shouldn't have been that stubborn.

  Placing my hand on the ground, I glance down to study the bloody fingers and stubby fingernails on them while I wonder if the escape and future is worth it.

  Slowly, black leather shoes come into view right under my nose as a man’s sadistic chuckle echoes through the garden. “Little spitfire, aren't you? Quite the fight you gave me for your life.” He kneels and grabs my chin, while I struggle from his hold, but it’s useless.

  My strength is nothing against his.

  Raising my chin, our gazes clash and I can’t help but whimper in despair as his unmasked face reminds me once again of the fool I’ve been.

  Because during all the weeks of chasing the psychopath, I never once anticipated it would be him.

  And now he has come to collect the most valuable thing I have to offer.

  My life.

  “You are mine now, Ella. The hunter has won his prey,” he murmurs, as he leans down and licks the blood from my lips.

  Part of me feels sorry for everything he’s had to endure in the life that led him to this.

  Not that it matters.

  The end will be the same.

  Either I’ll kill him, or he’ll kill me.

  Till death do us part after all.

  Chapter One

  New York, New York

  January 2018

  Psychopath

  Monday

  Leaning on the brick wall, my eyes scan the neighborhood around me as I admire the beauty of suburban life.

  Neatly cut grass covered in light snowflakes, toys lying around for kids to play with and not have a care in the world. Some porches have swings and other comfortable furniture to rest on after a hard day of work.

  People laugh loudly at something their friends say while kids run around in the snow, engaging in snowball wars or sledding down the icy road.

  Dogs bark loudly while jumping in happiness around their owners who treat them as part of the family.

  What’s not to like about this life?

  Especially when it gives me enough victims to hunt, as no one has more secrets than those living in the suburbs.

  Mark my words.

  Finally, my eyes rest on the tall, blond man who drinks his coffee while he watches his pregnant wife on the swing. A smile spreads across his mouth and happiness clearly shines brightly on his face. He sets his mug on the floor and leans down to give her a deep kiss while she clings to him tightly.

  They don’t seem older than thirty; recently moved here, if the various boxes around are anything to go by.

  Then my mind clicks as I reach a decision.

  He is perfect.

  Who is a better victim than the one completely in love with his spouse?

  Tuesday

  The man exits the bar while several guys call after him. “See you around, man.” He waves at them, slightly swaying to the side as he digs for his phone in the back of his pants, then curses loudly when the thing drops on the concrete with a loud clatter.

  Sometimes fools create an easy opportunity to catch them. I don’t even have to try.

  He looks around and huffs in frustration, running his fingers through his hair as he tries to turn on his phone, but it’s useless.

  I get out of the car, bored with all this. When my shoes make an unmistakable sound in the otherwise silent night, he raises his eyes to me as relief crosses his face. “Hey, man! Can I use your phone? Mine is broken, so I can’t call a cab.”

  The bar is located on the outskirts of the city in a secluded area, which allows people to relax without listening to cars constantly passing.

  Instead of answering him, I grab him by the neck, as he exclaims, “What the hell—” His words die on his lips as I press on his artery until he passes out, sagging in my arms. Then I pick him up and throw him into my trunk.

  Not a soul is in sight near my car, which is parked in the darkest place here.

  Whistling, I get inside and start the engine, as electricity zaps through me, reminding me of the satisfaction I will soon get.

  Wednesday

  “Please, I have a wife. We’re expecting a baby,” begs the man, while I silently lash him to a metal table, securing his arms and legs with leather straps. Not that he’ll have much strength, since he has been injected with a serum to keep him awake for the torture but prevent him from moving a muscle or talking.

  Gone are the days when I beat the crap out of them before inflicting my dark desires on their flesh. I’ve learned the art of destroying their body in ways they never see coming, all while they’re awake for the torture. At least my ears don't have to bleed listening to their shitty cries.

  I almost chuckle when I think about it. But it’ll work in a few minutes; until then, I can have my fun.

  I take a pair of blue latex gloves from the nearby surgical table. I love the sound of them snapping on my wrists as his eyes widen and he whimpers in fear.

  My brows furrow at his cowardice. If you are stupid enough to get caught by me, at least act like a man.

  I’ve never cried while experiencing pain—guess that comes with practice.

  “Please.” He tries again, but as before, I ignore his words and slide my finger through the many devices displayed for all kinds of torture. I usually like to switch around my methods,
but this time I decide to start with the scalpel.

  I place it over his liver, the skin dipping with the pressure, and the first drop of blood appears while his screams echo through the room. I’ve already broken his ribs, so I’d have easy access.

  I zone out as adrenaline rushes through my body, awakening everything inside me to the point of goosebumps showing on my skin and pleasure consuming me.

  Finally, the smell of a fresh kill.

  “What are you going to do? What?” He breathes heavily and winces in pain.

  This time, I decide to indulge him.

  “I’ll cut you up… piece by piece.” Before another scream issues from his mouth, I place tape over it so he’ll shut up and let me enjoy this moment.

  These kinds of moments are everything I have.

  Thursday

  Placing the last parts into a black garbage bag, I load it into the truck and come back inside to open the windows and clean everything with antiseptic. I take my time with my devices and table, using bleach everywhere, because I don’t want any evidence of what has happened here to come back at me.

  DNA is everything, after all.

  Finally, once it’s done, I place the Polaroid picture I took in a metal box. I don’t collect trophies as most of those like me do, but time to time, I love to gaze at my collection of killings and remember the thrills they brought me. Then I snap it shut, hide it under the table in the special case that no one can crack, and leave the place that brings me the most joy.

  Once I’m behind the wheel, I dial the phone as I drive down the narrow path that leads to the woods where the animals will take care of the rest of the work for me.

  “Finally, you called me back!” My friend’s voice fills the space in the car and a smirk tugs on my lips.

  “I’m sorry. I got held up with work.”

  He sighs heavily. “Don’t tell me you won’t be able to make it tonight?” he asks, displeasure lacing his tone. I barely restrain myself from bursting out laughing.

  I’m crazy, but not to the point of missing a meeting with him. “I’ll be there in two hours.”

  “Sure, see you there.” He hangs up, clearly done with this conversation.

  Soon, I stop at my destination, get all the parts out, and scatter them around the place.

  I quickly stop by my apartment, take a shower, and arrive right on time for dinner.

  It’s interesting how people talk with serial killers and never know about them, isn't it?

  Friday

  The phone buzzing snaps me out of sleep; annoyance fills my mind when a woman next to me groans in displeasure.

  Her warm body presses against me harder, her hand traveling across my chest and sliding lower, but I push her back, sending a warning stare that causes her eyes to widen.

  I fucked her, but the fun is over now. She is gorgeous as fuck with unbelievable tits and ass, but I don’t dip my dick into the same pussy twice.

  Rising, I turn on the light on the nightstand, wondering how the fuck I ended up sleeping with her, because I never let them stay longer than the sex.

  Probably all the booze we consumed last night. Then Jo—I think that’s her name—proceeded to show me the various talents she possessed.

  Not that her way of fucking is anything to phone home about.

  “Yes,” I bark into the cell, while the person on the other end of the line barks right back at me.

  “Where the fuck are you? I’ve messaged you like a thousand times.” The person continues to scream, so I remove myself from the arms of the naked woman as she slides her fingers down her stomach, still not giving up on turning me on.

  Stupidity will end human kind, mark my words. “Get out.” She opens her mouth to protest as a grimace crosses her face, but then thinks better of it, and with a loud huff, she grabs her clothes and disappears behind the bathroom door.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and welcoming the cooling sensations it provides.

  “We have a case. Bring your ass to the office.”

  Oh, did I forget to mention?

  I’m one of the team members of the behavior analysis unit of the FBI.

  Brilliant, isn’t it?

  Sunday

  The music is blasting from the headphones in my ears as I breathe evenly, running with good speed through Central Park. My aching muscles protest at the effort, but I don’t listen, instead pushing myself harder while inhaling the frigid air into my lungs, welcoming the burn it brings.

  My hoodie and sunglasses hide me from the penetrating stares of people walking around me, and I find relief in that.

  I can’t stand them while the kill is so fresh.

  Everything annoys me at times like this. I speed up, my sneakers constantly slapping against the concrete, and I close my eyes for a moment, exhaling heavily, and instantly slam into someone. The person bounces back from the impact and lands on the snow-covered grass, right on the ass.

  Fuck.

  I hear a groan, and my eyes focus on the woman in front of me. She sits up, laughing carelessly as she rubs her backside while removing the dark strands of hair from her face, and then her brown eyes look up to meet mine.

  I don’t say anything while she smiles at me. “Sorry, I’m so clumsy during my morning runs.” She gets up, groaning again, and oddly enough, this sound sends different sensations down my spine. “Okay then, bye.” With that, she adjusts her headphones and resumes her exercise while still rubbing her spine.

  Breathing heavily, I try to block out the images playing in my head, the memories I always try to run away from but can’t.

  Memories that never come to me when I look at women.

  I fist my hands and count to ten, hoping this desire will pass and I can forget about this encounter. Confusing emotions rush through me, and I spin around and trail after her, determined to find out why those fucking eyes of hers remind me of someone I used to know.

  Monday

  I have her file in my hands but throw it on the floor as I walk to the balcony door and drink in the magnificent view of the sunset in front of me.

  Slowly sipping my drink, I understand with clarity why I need to hunt her and the pleasure it will bring me.

  I don’t touch women as a rule, but she will be my exception.

  The hunter has found his prey, and nothing will stop him until he gets her.

  But first, I have to lure her into my trap.

  Chapter Two

  Welcome to the Team

  Richmond, Virginia

  June 2006

  Ella

  “This was such a mistake,” I murmur, as Chloe rolls her eyes, applying one more layer of mascara on her lashes while Simone drives the car faster, ignoring the speed limit. “Simone.”

  She shrugs and pats my shoulder.

  “Relax, girl! We’ll get you home on time.” She glances quickly at the clock. “It’s barely eleven, for heaven’s sake.”

  Palming my face, I rest my elbows on my knees, as I murmur, “Easy for you to say. You know my parents.”

  “Don’t we all?” Chloe snorts, this time using the lipstick. Why the hell is she even doing it if we left the party a few minutes ago?

  Unless they want to go somewhere else after they take the prudish Ella back home.

  Fuck my life, seriously.

  “They just want to protect me.” I try to defend my parents, even though it’s hard when they practically forbid everything, closing me off from life completely.

  “Yeah, I know. They’re keeping you a saint and stuff.” Chloe leans forward, resting her cheek on the car seat. “It’s a wonder you even hang out with us.”

  Yeah, they are both the so-called bad girls of high school, not that my parents know about their reputation.

  I keep that tidbit of information to myself.

  “What are you going to do for the prom?” Simone asks, while turning right so fast I’m barely able to hold onto the seat without falling back.

>   This girl drives like crazy!

  “I’m not going.” There is no way they will buy me a dress or anything else, so the conversation is a moot point to say the least.

  The horrified expression on my father’s face when I mention going to a dance with a boy, even if it’s a nerdy kid from my science class, is enough to crush all my dreams.

  He has good reasons to be protective, but I’m so tired of living in a cage.

  “That is so fucking sad, girl!”

  “Don’t swear,” I add, as Chloe once again rolls her eyes, but thankfully at this point, the car stops right near the back door of my house, and the lights are off.

  Exhaling in relief, I unbuckle myself and kiss my girls goodbye. “Sneak in quickly before they know. Otherwise, you’ll miss the picnic too,” Simone advises, and nodding, I rush inside, removing my shoes so I won’t make a sound.

  I tiptoe in complete darkness to the stairs, and then I step on something sticky and slip a little. I almost curse, as it has to be my baby sister and her crazy orange juice obsession. She’s been scattering this stuff all over the freaking place.

  I go on, ignoring the unpleasant stuff on my feet, and reach my door, quickly sliding inside and shutting it behind me. I’m so lucky that my parents’ door is not open. They usually keep track of my sister and me to make sure we are sleeping and not doing any other stuff.

  Closing my eyes and resting my head on the wood behind me, I exhale loudly. A light breeze hitting me on the face has me snapping my eyes back open to see my window with the white-as-snow curtains blowing in different directions.

  I can’t believe I left it open when I sneaked out earlier to meet the girls!

  When I turn on the light, hoping to get a quick shower, I notice the red stains on my wooden floor.

  “What the hell?” I murmur, then sigh in exasperation about my sister’s drawing classes and, as a result, the paints that constantly stain everything. I’m the one doing the cleaning here, so I always spend hours making sure she doesn't permanently damage anything. However, she loves it, and since my room has the best view, or so she claims, she mostly paints here. Which is annoying, but what can I do when I love her so much?