If I lost, I’d have to live with them, and I’d be forced to dispose of my virginity.
I mean, I didn’t know for afactthat I’d lose my virginity if I lost, but once I’d started asking around about the Hunt, I’d heard the rumors: that the men were depraved, that they took the girls who lost home and used them like playthings for three months.
But the girls survived. I knew because I’d asked. No one had ever heard of a Hunt girl dying in the custody of the men who’d hunted them, and after sitting on a dusty shelf like an unused toy, maybe I needed to be used for a while, to get rid of my virginity once and for all.
And yeah, I was nervous and scared. I wanted to win more than I wanted to lose — wanted the man who’d run my parents and Bram off the road to die for what he’d done — but at least a loss wouldn’t come without a silver lining.
I came to another fork in the tunnels and turned right, guessing that it would take me deeper into the north side of town, across the street from the coffee shop, but then, a few minutes later, I came to another purple light at another fork andI could have sworn it was the one I passed when I first decided to make my way under the road.
Did the tunnels double back on each other?
The possibility nagged at me. Because if the tunnels doubled back, there was no guarantee I’d been putting more distance between me and the men giving chase.
And then, like I’d conjured them just by thinking about them, I heard voices.
Male voices.
And they were close.
I ran.
8
JAGGER
We’d been runningfor over an hour when we stumbled on the new team ambling through the shadows, their jeans wet from the sprinklers. They were tall and broad, with the sort of muscle you got from doing real work, outdoor work that made your hands calloused and your face brown from the sun.
Their masks were a match to their bodies: bulls, the kind with horns that looked slow but gored you to death once they got a hold of you.
And they weren’t bare-chested like the rest of us, not entirely: the tattoos inked onto their torsos crawled out from under brown leather vests that looked like they belonged in the Wild West, not the tunnels under a blue-collar town like Blackwell Falls.
Which made sense when you thought about where they lived.
“Yo.” Vigo uncapped a bottle of water and guzzled the whole thing in one long gulp. “Stopping to smell the roses?”
“Not in any hurry,” the blond bull said.
His friend glared through his own mask. “Wish you’d told us about the fucking water.”
“Surprise,” Vigo said.
I’d debated the merit of the sprinklers as soon as they’d turned off and I’d realized I was going to have to hunt in wet denim, but it was too late now. Besides, it was only fair that we should be as uncomfortable as the girls.
The dark-haired bull scowled. “My balls are already chafing.”
“Sucks to be your balls,” Vigo said.
“Seen any of the girls yet?” I asked.
I didn’t want to admit it, but I was looking for news about Cassie Montgomery. Hawk was right about playing by the rules and not pulling rank — despite the fact that the Butchers had never hesitated to do it — but I was still worried one of the other teams might get to the little redhead first.
The one with chafed balls adjusted his dick inside his jeans. “One of the blondes.”
“Not your girl?” Vigo asked.
“Looking for the other one,” the blond said.
I tried not to show my relief. Now that I’d laid eyes on Cassie Montgomery, I was determined to have her. I didn’t doubt our prowess in the tunnels, but there was an element of chance to the Hunt.
