Even in the freezing cold air, I can smell the scent of amber and saffron.
“It’s me, baby,” Harlan breathes against the shell of my ear. “You’re safe. Want to go hunt with me? You’ll never be the pretty little doe forced to bend ever again.”
“Hey, Twat Waddle,” Izzy says, his face covered as he steps before a confused Brad. My ex-foster brother’s eyes are comical as he faces Izzy, a faceless man with a fucking hatchet in his hand.
Gone is any hint of a Spanish accent, and in its place is a good ole boy Southern one.
“Accents are something all of us can pull,” Harlan says softly.
“What…what the fuck is this?” Brad asks, taking a step back.
We’re far enough from the hotel that no one will hear him, especially not with how cold it is. It’s dark, no one wants to be outside in the dead of winter. Even better?
Snow softens sounds and buries them.
“Go be scary, baby,” Harlan purrs, pressing a bat into my hand.
Grinning, I squeeze the familiar weapon in my hand as I step out of the sanctuary of the tree and Harlan. Syrus and Kyren come out of hiding as well, their faces covered as they stand menacingly with hatchets in hand. Kyren’s red hair is hidden underneath his ski mask, and all I can see are his sage green eyes practically glowing with anger.
“This is your past coming back to haunt you,” I say, slamming the bat into Brad's stomach. “Are you going to stand there and let me hit you? Or are you going to run from my pack?”
“Fuck,” Harlan groans. The rest of the men around me growl appreciatively while I raise my brow at Brad.
“Well?” I ask.
“You are a whore, but crazier than the last time I fucked you!” he yells, turning to run.
“Oh fun!” I squeal, taking off after him.
“Can we take her on more hunts?” Kyren drawls.
“Fuck no,” Syrus grunts, even though Kyren wasn’t asking him.
Whooping, I grin as I watch Brad almost faceplant into the snow. I bash the bat against his ass, making him groan. Catching himself, he runs faster, and I nod.
“It’s time to party, boys,” I giggle, riding the endorphins.
The fear is gone, I’m no longer prey.
Brad is.
An arrow shoots over my shoulder, sinking itself into Brad’s back. Kyren skips comically through the snow, and together, we stalk Brad past large trees standing sentinel in witness to thiskill. Brad has let himself go, and he’s not as powerful and scary as he used to be.
Too much time behind a desk, not enough being active.
A battle cry screams behind me, and a hatchet sinks into Brad’s thigh. It feels as if I’m high as I run ahead and bash my bat into his head.
“Silva!” he cries out, holding his head with a hand but not going down. “What the fuck!”
Brad attempts to grab me, but Syrus swings me away so Izzy can cut his fucking fingers off.
“No touchey,” Izzy murmurs. “That’s what got you into our sights to begin with. You like to touch things that don’t belong to you.”
“How many times did Silva tell you no?” Harlan asks, watching as Brad screams, holding his hand against him.
“She never did!” he screams, running again.
“Well, it’s hard to say no when your mouth is full, isn’t it?” I muse.
