Something inside you snaps. This isn’t just about survival anymore. You can’t let them do this. You can’t let them destroy another man. Your eyes dart around the room, landing on a heavy, ceramic lamp on the end table. It’s not a plan, it’s pure, animal instinct.
You move.
As the deputy turns his attention back to Rod, presumably to savor the moment, you lunge. You grab the lamp by its base, the cord whipping through the air. The masked man is focused on his prize, his back to you. You swing the lamp with all your might. It’s a desperate swing that connects with the side of his head with a sickening, wet crunch. He doesn’t even make a sound. He just crumples, a heap of black cloth and stillness, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
Deputy Reed spins around, his eyes wide with shock, then rage. “What the fuck did you do?” he snarls, his hand flying to his hip.
But Rod is faster. He’s a big guy, all muscle and fury, and the fear in his eyes has hardened into something lethal. He lunges forward, grabbing the deputy’s arm and twisting it with a violent jerk. You hear a sickening crack of bone, and the deputy screams, his service revolver clattering to the hardwood floor.
Rod scrambles for it, his fingers closing around the grip. His chest heaving, he trains the gun on the deputy. “Don’t move,” Rod chokes out, his voice a raw, terrified rasp.
The deputy, cradling his shattered arm, just stares, his face a mask of disbelief and agony before he lunges for the pistol.
“No!” you scream, but it’s too late.
The gun goes off, a deafening roar that echoes in your skull. The deputy jerks backward, a neat red hole appearing in the center of his forehead. His eyes go wide with surprise, and then he collapses, a pool of blood already spreading across the floor.
The only sound is your own ragged breathing and Rod’s panicked gasps. He stands there, naked from the waist down, trembling, the gun clutched in his hand like a foreign object. He looks at you, his eyes wide with shock. “What... what do we do? I... I just killed a cop.”
Your gaze falls to the other still form on the floor. The masked man hasn’t moved. You kneel down, your hands shaking so badly you can barely use them. You reach for the edge of the mask and pull it off.
It’s Brett.
His face is pale and his eyes are wide and vacant, a trickle of blood running from his temple down his cheek. You check for a pulse on his neck, your fingers fumbling against his cold skin. Nothing.
“Brett...” you whisper, the name catching in your throat. “Oh god, Brett...”
Rod stares, his face a mask of confusion and horror. “Who’s Brett?”
“He was …” you say, your voice breaking.
The realization hits you like a physical blow. Brett wasn’t a victim. He was a participant. He was the one who helped them. He was the one who helped them take you. But was he in on it or was he put in the same position you were just placed in? Did they abduct him and offer him an out in exchange for you?
“We can’t call the police,” you say, your voice flat. You look up at Rod, who is still standing there, trembling with the gun hanging loosely in his hand. “We can’t.”
“What? Why the hell not?” Rod’s voice is tight with panic. “We just killed a cop in self-defense! They’ll understand!”
“No, they won’t,” you shake your head. “The Sheriff is in on this, Rod. He has to be. If we call this in, we’re not reporting a crime. We’re walking into the lion’s den and asking to be eaten.”
You explain everything happening: the missing men, your own abduction, how Brett must have helped them, the Sheriff and the Deputy clearly being part of it, how you were told you’d be given freedom in exchange for helping them bring in five of your coworkers.
“I don’t think that means the Sheriff knows,” Rod stares at you, the gun slowly lowering as the gravity of your words sinks in. “You said yourself Reed only talked to you once the Sheriff was gone.”
“We need to get out of here,” you say, everything happening still not completely sinking in. “When Brett and Reed don’t show up wherever they need to be next, someone will be coming and they’ll find this.” You look around the room, at the blood and the bodies.
“So do we find out more about Brett and Reed on our own or go to Sheriff Miller?” Rod asks, his voice barely a whisper. “What have you gotten me into?”
You look at the bodies: Deputy Reed, the corrupt cop, and Brett, the one-night-stand who became a monster. You feel a cold resolve settle in your stomach. Your answer is clear.
This story is part of Doug’s Decisions: A Gay Erotica Series. At the bottom of each scene, there are choices to make — some for everyone and some just for paid subscribers. Choose wisely. Your vote could send our main character down some dangerous or even sexy roads. If the group choice results in death, the story will reset to the last decision. A mystery lies ahead.
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