I strip off my shirt, and my skin prickles in the cool air. It’s summer, but the night is starting to have a bite to it.
I was born feral. From day one, my twin and I fought for survival like weeds growing through a crack on the sidewalk. It wasn’t until I said my vows and joined Fraternitas that I got to experience the world beyond the concrete jungle. The first time I came out here and heard the chorus of crickets and breathed the fresh air, I was home.
St. James and the Devil were visionaries, even when they were young. They figured out how to turn the petty crimes of a gang of street rats into a profitable gambling and smuggling enterprise and expanded into real estate before we were old enough to own land. Fraternitas owns almost all of Billionaire Island, including the vast acreage where we built the Lodge. There’s a privacy fence around our land, but I’d have to jog miles to reach it.
Plenty of wilderness for me to hunt.
I tug on the executioner’s hood. Now, I look like what I am: a killer. A beast bred to lurk in the wilderness on the outskirts of society. I’m lucky Fratenitas has a need for my monstrous urges; otherwise, I’d have been put down like a dog.
This is why I’ve never claimed a woman. No one should have to suffer the savagery of my possession.
But now, I have a sacrifice that’s been offered up on a platter, and I’ll be damned if I don’t take it.
“Run, run, Little Red,” I hum to myself, picking up my pace until I’m jogging through trees. “Here comes the Big, Bad Wolf.”
Elodie
The hunter is close,stalking through the woods. He’s wearing heavy boots and snapping twigs underfoot with little care for being stealthy. He even hums a little. He’s having a blast hunting a human for sport.
The closer he gets, the more noise he makes, but the sounds are drowned out by the pounding of my heart. Waitressing gave me strong legs, but I’m not a runner. That’s why I opted to hide.
I press myself against a thick tree trunk. I took the time to smear mud on my skin so I’m not glowing in the dark. It was disgusting, but I needed camouflage. I also piled leaves over the mud on my legs. Hopefully, it will keep the bugs away from me.
I fight to still my breathing and try to become one with the tree bark. But I can’t resist peeking to see if I can get a glimpse of the hunter.
That’s my first mistake. He steps into the moonlight, and my lungs seize. He’s massive, with tattoos etched on his burly arms and a hood painted with a skull covering his face. He’s the stuff of nightmares.
My stomach does a slow, lazy flip. This guy is way bigger than I thought he’d be. This is no ordinary client, and he’s not just a club patron who’s rich enough to pay for his fantasies.
He has to be one ofthem. One of the Fraternitas. The biggest, baddest gang in the city. They rule the criminal underworld. No one knows what it takes to join their ranks, but there are rumors. Blood rituals, executions. Fight clubs to weed out the weak. Only the strongest survive to join the brotherhood.
If I had known I was going to be hunted by a criminal monster, I wouldn’t have signed the contract. There’s no telling what depraved things he’ll do if he catches me.
Too late now. I’m being hunted, and something tells me I can’t just stand up and wave a white flag. This isn’t over until he catches me or I win.
I have to win.
Now that I’ve seen the threat, I can’t tear my eyes away. I study him for clues. For all his size, he lopes easily around the pond, his movements as fluid as a panther’s. Even as my insides cramp with fear, heat stirs deep in my core. His muscles are beautiful in the moonlight.
I’m doing my best not to move or breathe, but something alerts him. He stops and raises his head, a predator scenting his prey.
Then he swivels and faces the part of the woods I’m hiding in. It’s impossible, but I have the strangest sense he’s looking right at me.
Jaeger
The night is beautiful.The moon overhead might as well be a floodlight on the meadow. I skirt the pond, noting a few streaks of mud on the grass. My prey was here.
I can feel her watching me.
Even though I was born and bred in the city, I’ve honed my hunting skills. I know the little redhead is naked. She stripped off her shift and tore it into pieces, leaving them scattered around the forest like little white flags of surrender, shivering in the breeze.
I clench one in my fist. It still bears her warmth, her scent. She’s not far away. She opted to hide, not run.
I take my sweet time strolling to the next copse. Once I’m there, I make as much noise as I can. I push through the brush, careless of where I step, and kick leaves and branches out of my way.
If she won’t run, I’ll scare her until her primal instincts take over and she makes a mistake.
“I know you’re here, little red,” I call. “I can smell you. You’re not the first prey I’ve hunted.”
