Page 25 of Off the Rails

But the stoic mask finally fell at the sight of our cat. Like an apparition, Butch appeared on one of the couches, eyeing our new guest suspiciously.

He was black and orange tortie we’d found in a mechanical box, and he was better at hiding than any of the women we’d ever hunted. He appeared when he wanted to be seen, and not a second earlier.

Our captive startled at the sight of him before extending a hand to him. “Who’s this?”

“Butch,” I offered. “Our most elusive roommate.”

While Butch sniffed the girl’s hand, Nash reached out to pet the back of his neck. “Doesn’t usually like company. Guess he thinks you’re special.”

“Do you get much company out here?” She raised a brow.

No one that leaves alive.

But I couldn’t say that. That would definitely scare her off.

Before I could think of an answer, Cyrus called out from the edge of the hallway. “Enough show and tell. Do you want to see your bedroom or what?”

Butch ran off to greet his favorite person, rubbing himself against her legs. While the cat had Cy distracted, I leaned closer to Nash and whispered, “Doesn’t that still count as showing?”

Cyrus grumbled. “I heard that, asshole.”

Once the cat disappeared down the hallway, Cyrus eyed our captive with renewed frustration. “I don’t have all day. Get moving or I’ll move you myself, Ragdoll.”

When our new toy hesitated, I didn’t blame her — Cyrus was one big, scary looking motherfucker. Her frame practically filled the doorway. She was like one, big ball of muscles, and she wasn’t joking about how easy it would be to lift “Mary” — or to tear her apart.

But once Nash and I walked after Cyrus, our toy had little choice but to follow.

“This is you,” Cyrus threw open the door unceremoniously.

Much to our surprise, my Trinket marched right into the room.

Looking over her shoulder, she could see our surprise. "I lost, fair and square."

Despite her indignation, I knew the sight of us in her doorway must have been at least a little frightening.

Two masked clowns and one demented freak did not a happy captive make.

But I’ll happily prove her wrong.

Cyrus grabbed the door knob and slammed it closed before storming back to the kitchen, pulling off her mask off her face, and tossing it on the couch.

Confused by her anger, I made my way back to the kitchen with Nash by my side.

Cyrus was always a dick. I wasn't sure if I’d seen her in a good mood more than once a year. Still, something about this mood felt different. Especially because we'd gotten our way.

Sore loser.

Cyrus threw open the cupboard and poured a glass of orange juice from the fridge and knocked it back like a shot of whiskey after a hard day on a job site.

Then she shook her head, staring back at me. “Taking off your mask is a rookie fucking move.”

“She asked.” I shrugged. “Felt fair since my fingers were already buried in her wet pussy.”

“Jesus.” Nash scoffed out a laugh, her own mask resting on the kitchen counter.

All of us had been sweaty, the mid-August night not nearly cool enough for a hunt.

The three of us hadn't had a moment to really talk. Not since Cyrus offered the girl a deal.