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The compound looked almost identical to the one where I was held captive. Only the temperature was different. Mine had been perpetually cold. I was pretty sure I’d been held in somewhere in the wilderness of Canada, but this compound sat in the heart of a desert.

“Oh, you're pretty,” the man beside me said, twirling a strand of my blonde hair around his finger. “Want to ride me later?”

My appearance was completely altered. Blonde curls bounced around my face, framing my features. I also wore ice-blue contacts, making me even less recognizable. I’d bound my chest to make my breasts appear smaller, and my skin was already pale, as if no blood ran through it.

Maybe that was a corpse thing.

I didn’t know.

Either way, I looked almost nothing like the girl they’d once raped and murdered.

I wasn’t Xeniya Morozova. I was Jessica Smithwell, Patrick’s overly excited, sadistic girlfriend who wanted to come play with his dolls.

I tried ignoring the man, but when he tugged on my hair, I turned toward him, a fake smile crawling across my face like a deadly spider.

My fingers clawed seductively down his chest as I caught his hand and pressed my lips to his earlobe. “Careful, darling. I’m a serial killer, and you really don’t want my attention falling on you. I’m ruthless.”

The man blanched.

I wiggled my nose, satisfied for now with his fear. Soon, I’d take his life too.

I turned back to Patrick.

My smile turned cruel, and I clapped my hands with a squeal. “OMG, babe, this is so exciting.”

I laced my arm through Patrick’s, and he scowled, his every muscle in his body tensing. I’d already warned him that if he didn’t help me and keep himself in line, my men would kill his baby sister, mother, and brother.

So he was more than willing to help.

Would I do it?

Probably not.

But I didn’t care to find out, and Patrick had been so accommodating… thus far.

My gaze swept the room. To everyone watching, I was just an excitable girl taking in her surroundings. In reality, I was counting guards and men.

Eight guards dressed in all blue patrolled the perimeter, and thirty-five men occupied the seats around me.

Okay. So I had to take out forty-three men—no big deal.

Right?

We were about to find out whether I had enough energy to pull it off. Ghosting was easy enough, but to kill, I had to solidify at least part of my body. Usually, I chose to solidify my hand because changing only one body part took less energy than materializing completely.

Either way, phasing cost me energy.

Whether I had enough energy to take on forty-three men remained to be seen. But I was excited to test the limits of this new body.

First, though, I needed to put on a little show. Make them underestimate the fuck out of me.

I clapped again and wiggled my nose, playing the part of a hyper Valley girl with fantasies of murder.

At least the last bit was true.

Blood burned through my veins, but I was excited and scared. Because today, I was one of them, here to take part in a sick, twisted marathon.

I am a monster like them. Blend in. Don’t get caught.