Which is funny because the Forsaken has been such a large part of my life. I finally found somewhere I thought I fit in, where my darker side was accepted. Though as Soren tells me about all the crimes our chosen prey has committed, it goes over my head because all I can think about is a woman with honey-blonde hair and striking eyes, wondering when, or if, she’ll talk to me again.
“Your gun,” Soren says, and I turn to him.
“What?” I ask, just as a car pulls up behind us. We watch as Reon gets out, his axe in one hand and his mask in the other. Stopping beside Soren, he slides the mask onto his face. After a moment, he gestures to the woods and takes off. The Forsaken owns the land we hunt on. It’s twenty acres of private, fenced-in woods, and no trespassing is allowed.
“Go and fucking kill something, Arlo,” Soren says, shaking his head and taking off after Reon.
The fallen leaves crunch under my boots as I make my way into the trees. My mask hides my face, and my black clothing will hide any blood, and with me using a gun as my weapon of choice, the mess should be minimal. While I’m not opposed to blood, I prefer the feel of the gun going off in my hands.
A scream rips through the night sky, and I turn left, heading in the direction it came from. Not long after, I find one of the members sitting on the ground, mask askew, not moving but still breathing as evidenced by the rise and fall of his chest. When I stop a few yards away from him, he looks up, and I see it’s Rylas.
“You.” He seethes.
“What?”
He unsteadily gets to his feet. He reeks of alcohol, and he sways—a knife loosely gripped in his hand.
“That’s all you’ve got to say?” He moves toward me, and I step to the side so he doesn’t touch me.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I question as he lifts the knife and points it at me.
“What’s wrong with me is that the woman you’re fucking just ruined my life.”
“Her name is Cora,” I correct, my tone a low rumble of warning.
“Yeah, that whore.”
I tense at his use of that word in regard to her. Cracking my neck, I warn, “Watch your words, Rylas. I would hate for you to lose a finger.”
He starts laughing as if he can’t believe what I said.
“She ruined my life. And now I want to ruin hers.”
He lunges at me, and this time I don’t move. Instead, his body collides with mine, and I hit his hand, making him drop the knife. I catch it before it hits the ground.
He stumbles back, searching for it.
The sound of a loud whistle floats to us on the breeze, which means the hunt has concluded, but neither of us moves. Rylas stands in front of me, breathing heavily, glaring at his knife in my hand.
“Give it back,” he grits out, and then he smirks before he says, “See that blood on it? I bet you would know whose that is. Taste it, Arlo. Tell me if you know that’s the cute little real estate agent’s blood.” My eyes flick to the knife, and right there is a small drop of blood.
“Tell me again how you plan to ruin her life,” I say, gripping the knife’s handle tighter. I plan to pop each of his eyes out for even looking in her direction, yet he thinks he can hurt her. How mistaken he is. But first, I need to make sure she is okay.
“Your girlfriend told Del. She told her I was married. Then she went and told my wife, with fucking evidence.”
“How did she find Monica?” I ask as his gaze flicks to the knife again and then back to me.
He sways on unsteady feet. “Social media. She sent videos and photos of Del and me.”
“Seems like the situation was your fault for fucking around on your wife.” I smile at him.
“We all fuck around on our wives. Everyone except Reon.” He’s not wrong. Many, if not most, of the married members cheat on their wives. If I had a wife, Cora to be exact, I would never stray from her, of that I know for certain. I’m pretty sure if Reon even thought about it, Lilith would cut off his cock.
“I plan to fuck her life up, just so you are aware,” he says, smiling proudly.
I glance at the knife and then meet his eyes. “You want your knife back?” He nods and holds out his hand for it. But before he knows what’s happening, I slice off his pinkie. His screams rip through the forest, and I smile as he pulls his hand back and clutches it to his chest.
“Fucking hell, you dickhead.” Pain laces the deep growl.
