The Running Man Novel Novels & Stories

It is because of all these wrongs that I ran and will keep on running. The safe-haven I call the town line finally comes into view, bringing renewed hope into my being. I take the chance to pick up speed and rush into the safety net. I feel some resistance at first as if some invisible force is trying to keep me out, but I keep pushing forward, and soon I am safely across, relief causing my nerves to settle down. I turn around to face my pursuers with a smug grin, slowly walking backwards as I take in each of their faces.

“I am not planning to run in front of an audience.” “That is not what I am concerned about.” The way he said it made something tighten in my chest. Before I could respond, someone approached. A man in a tailored suit, confident, smiling, the kind of person who had spent his entire life navigating rooms like this without ever feeling out of place. “Montenegro,” he greeted smoothly, extending a hand. Alessandro accepted it without hesitation, his expression composed, unreadable. “Good to see you,” the man continued, before his gaze shifted to me.

As Sherly sifted through the stack of documents on her desk, her brows furrowed in concentration. Two days had passed since the ball, yet the memory of the mysterious figure who had glared at George lingered in her mind like a haunting specter. She couldn't help but think of that man since she felt that he wasn't simple at all. He is part of the Vile Mafia; she knows it. However, for some reason, according to the information she had, she was part of the Rui Lin Mafia before.

The fucker was laughing at me in a mocking way that made my skin crawl and my vision covered in red. He wanted me to kill him in anger and end his miserable life. Milano fucking Runners was rage-baiting me. A smirk curled my lips as I saw through his plans, but unfortunately, I wouldn’t be ending his life just yet. “Put an end to that game of yours because I’m not killing you,” I drawled, halting in front of him as I squatted and grabbed a fist-full of his hair in my hand and swung it backwards until a scream tore off his lips. “Not yet.”

Running Man hurriedly explained, “My brother’s shoe didn’t match his feet, so he wore my shoes. Those are my shoes, so what’s the problem with that?” After forcefully giving a blatant excuse, Running Man approached Herschel and said with a soft but threatening voice, “You’d better f*cking stay out of my business, or I’m going to kill you!” Herschel instantly seemed terrified and hurriedly said to the onlookers, “Help! He’s just threatened to kill me! He’s also asked me to stay out of his business! Don’t you all think this guy’s really weird? I’m just a man taking a look at what’s happening when you’re the one stirring up this entire scene, so why would you kill me?

I am so utterly screwed beyond recognition. Nonetheless, I run. I run like my life depends on it because really, it might actually be the case. After what seemed like minutes of running, I looked around and saw nothing but the exact same thing everywhere I turned. What the hell? Is this just an endless maze of tall trees in darkness? Fuck! I can’t breathe anymore! When you’ve been starved and are close to just becoming skin and bones, you’re certainly not made for running. Or any other physical activity for that matter.