Beguile

49 The habit

3rd Persons POV

Lucas stepped quietly out of the tent, ensuring Kennedy was still deep asleep. Elise stood guard without needing instruction, her silhouette sharp in the dim pre-dawn light.

The rising sun barely offered any clarity, making it hard to see Kurt at first as he leaned against a tree in the distance. His dark, wrinkled suit seemed out of place in the wilderness, but its expense was evident. It was his only way to maintain a semblance of control over the chaos they were in.

Without speaking, Kurt led Lucas toward the cabin where the rest of the students were held. Lucas glanced at his band, opening the map to check for any stray blue dots. His brow furrowed when he spotted several green ones. He didn't like seeing those.

"You missed some."

Kurt clicked his tongue in frustration. "I gathered what's important."

"And they're not?"

"The pesky greens won't help us get out of here."

Crouching down beside one of the captives, Lucas removed the bag covering her head. The girl tried desperately to scream, but the gag was shoved so deep in her mouth that all she could manage was a choked splatter of saliva. Lucas ignored her and instead lifted his gaze back to Kurt.

"They might become a threat. They know things, Kay," Lucas said quietly. "She might be out of it right now, but these things... they could get into her head."

Kurt frowned, glancing at the remote poking out from Lucas's pocket. "Be careful with that," he muttered, clearly agitated. After a pause, he admitted, "You're right. I should've thought of that. I'll get to it—haunt them down."

Lucas twirled the remote between his fingers, the girl's breath hitching with every movement, knowing a single mistake could end her life. His eyes flicked to his band again, watching the green dots blink in and out of view.

"You better be quick," Lucas warned. "Before those greens disappear for good."

As Lucas's eyes flicked back to the map on his band, a voice emerged from the shadows. "Can I help?"

It was Rie, standing in the corner with his hands behind his back. His posture was relaxed, but the glint in his eyes was anything but. Lucas sighed, not entirely surprised by the interruption.

"What do you have there?"

Rie's smile widened, revealing what he had been concealing.

In his hands was a sharp, twisted tool—its long, slender blade tapering into a jagged hook. The metal gleamed faintly in the dim light, and the edges of the tool were serrated, clearly designed for more than just cutting. It was built to peel, to flay skin from flesh, leaving muscle exposed in ragged strips. A small notch near the base of the blade hinted at the horrific intent, meant to catch and drag, to tear the skin away in a way that would be slow and agonizing.

"I thought it might come in handy." Rie said

Lucas glanced at the tool, then back at the girl in front of him, her wide eyes locked on the jagged instrument in Rie's hand.

There's no lie that Lucas felt the kid was odd. But he was useful. His hands worked cleanly, practiced beyond his years, peeling away flesh and tissue like a seamstress unthreading fabric.

He was thorough. Not just flaying skin, but removing anything identifiable—teeth, fingerprints, scars. He knew where to cut and what to destroy. Lucas had watched him work in cold silence, the kid's focus never breaking, never flinching, as he turned bodies into hollow, untraceable remnants. No blood trails, no messy hacks—just clean, clinical destruction.