My only hope was to find Alexander. Two prey working together might stand a chance against the hunters. If he would listen. If he would trust me after I had stabbed him the way I did.
If he was still alive when I got to him.
The irony wasn't lost on me—seeking alliance with the very man I wasn’t supposed to even look at. The man who had been instrumental in my father’s killing. But a sense of survival made for strange bedfellows, and right now, Alexander Moore was the only potential ally in these woods who wasn't actively trying to kill me.
Somewhere in the darkness ahead, a twig snapped. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs as I strained to see through the shadows.
"Alexander?" I whispered, hope and dread tangled in my chest. "Is that you?"
No answer came, only the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps drawing nearer.
And then him, materializing from behind a tree. I stood there, staring at him as if we had all the time in the world. Like they did in those romantic action movies when the main leads would have a moment while chaos erupted around them. I hated when that happened because it seemed so silly, but if one looked at us now, we weren’t any different.
Only, his stare wasn’t adoring but cautious. Mistrustful.
“You know I didn’t do this,” I blurted out, unsure why. “You heard her.” He nodded, then I added, “They dragged me out of the room, told me to run.”
He nodded again, but said nothing. It drove me insane.
“Say something!” I whisper-shouted. “What are we going to do?”
He stumbled and I gasped. Some blood stained his shirt where I stabbed him, and he seemed a little out of it. Just when I was about to ask if he was okay, he said, “There’s a place. Not exactly a refuge, but I need some time to think.”
“Fine.” I stepped closer to him. He reached out and took my hand, surprising me.
“Come on. Once there, we’ll figure out what to do next.”
Beatrice O'Brien
The night aircaressed my skin through the open window of the hunting blind as I adjusted my night-vision goggles. The forest stretched before me like a verdant kingdom—mykingdom. Below, my hunters moved in precise formation, their shadows gliding between ancient oaks with practiced efficiency. Satisfaction coursed through my veins.
Through my earpiece, I heard their synchronized breathing, occasional whispers as they tightened the noose around the groundskeeper's cottage. The rustic structure stood in a small clearing, its windows glowing with weak lamplight—a beacon drawing my prey together exactly as I planned.
"Team Alpha in position," a voice murmured in my ear.
"Team Bravo, southeast perimeter secured," came another.
My fingers caressed the control panel at my side. With a single touch, I activated the surveillance system I'd had installed weeks ago—long before Patrick realised I was no longer taking my medication, before he understood I was capable of orchestrating something of this magnitude. The monitors flickered to life, offering multiple angles of the cottage interior.
And there they were—the two people who consumed my thoughts. Alexander Moore and Aoife O'Malley, enemies forced into alliance by my design, huddled together in desperate consultation. The sight of them ignited something vicious inside me. The auburn-haired bitch leaned close to Alexander, her hand on his arm, her lips moving rapidly as she explained something. His face, normally so controlled, betrayed tension in the tightness around his eyes.
"Look at them," I whispered to myself, "searching for options that don't exist."
I left them only one path forward, and soon they would realize it. The cottage was surrounded, the estate sealed. Sunrise was six hours away. When morning came, Ronan Moore would sign everything over to me to save his beloved brother and stopa turf war, not realizing Alexander would already be dead. The O'Malleys would lose their powerful allies, and Patrick would finally understand the wife he thought he'd broken was now his master.
I pressed another button, activating the hidden speakers throughout the cottage.
"My darlings," I purred, watching their heads snap up. "I do hope you're enjoying your little shelter. So cozy, so ... intimate."
Alexander's jaw tightened. Aoife's hand moved subtly toward something at her waist—a makeshift weapon perhaps? How resourceful.
"I thought you might want to know that my hunters will be breaching your little haven whenever I give the go ahead." I paused, letting the information sink in. "Unless, of course, you provide me with some entertainment first." She paused. “Oh, and don’t even think of getting out of there. My men have orders to shoot you both on the spot if you do.”
I saw confusion flicker across both their faces, quickly replaced by dawning horror as I continued.
"You see, I've always wondered what Alexander Moore looks like when he's truly lost control. When that so very well put together, calculating exterior shatters completely." My voice dropped lower, becoming more intimate. "Show me, Alexander. Show me how you fuck her—show me what you've been denying me all this time."
Aoife's eyes widened, her mouth forming a silent curse. Alexander stood rigid, hands curling into fists at his sides.
