Bursts of loud laughter and deep voices tighten my throat. It feels as if my heart is making an escape attempt, breaking through its gilded cage and clawing its way out of captivity.
Jesus, I think I’m going to pass out.
My legs wobble and my hand catches the railing, clutching it so tightly, my knuckles are bleached white. It’s the only thing keeping me from pitching forward.
“Get it together,” Jillian whispers harshly from behind me.
“Says the girl who wasn’t punished for this three days ago,” I snap back.
She quietens. That was rude of me. But fuck, there’s not a manual on how to rewire my brain to be unafraid and calm. I’m nearly hyperventilating by the time we reach the landing and make our way into the living room where the hunters await.
These men don’t belong here.
This house is run-down, and it doesn’t matter how clean or tidy it is, it still looks like trash. And there are five men standing in the middle of it, wearing Armani suits, diamond-encrusted Rolex watches, and submerged in a shroud of expensive cologne that costs more than my car note.
Their conversation dies as they turn to us, and I realize the different colors in their eyes look the same when they’re all lifeless.
“Francesca,” one calls, drawing out her name with affection. “You’ve got yourself a beautiful lot here.”
The man has short, dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and a deep tan to complement his toned body. He looks like he spends his days lounging on his yacht, most likely shacked up with a supermodel in a skimpy red bikini, who’s blissfully unaware of her sugar daddy’s taste for hunting innocent women for sport.
Lucky her.
His eyes slide to mine and lock, his grin growing as the other three men grunt their agreement. I’m supposed to appear meek and submissive, but it takes me too many seconds to drop my stare to the glossy wooden floor. Courtesy of yours truly. We had to make this place look presentable, and adding a coat of oil apparently accomplishes that feat.
Feeling the burn of his stare caressing my tender skin, I’m now confident that I was too slow. A spark of adrenaline ignites in my blood, worsening my nausea. Without a shadow of a doubt, I know he’s going to be the one hunting me today.
“The one with the orange hair, does her pussy match, or did she ruin it by dyeing it that color?” another asks, and I have to clench my teeth and bite back a response. Phoebe trembles beside me as Francesca affirms something incredibly personal, her voice even and pleasant.
Nasty bitch.
“I like that one,” he states. My gaze flickers to him, noting his bushy black brows, tiny eyes, and potbelly. “Her hair will look beautiful wrapped around my fist when she’s sucking my cock.”
A knot forms in my throat, and I take a risk by hooking my pinky around hers and squeezing briefly. We’re crowded into each other tightly enough that the quick action goes unnoticed.
“Of course, Ben,” Francesca responds pleasantly. The man, Ben, practically foams at the mouth while his cold eyes heat with wickedness. One thing we have in common at this moment—nefarious, evil things are running through both of our minds.
“And I think I want her,” the blond man pipes in, nodding at me. His searing gaze hasn’t lifted, causing sweat to pour down my spine and vomit to travel up to my throat.
“You’re sure, Xavier?” Francesca questions. “She’s not eligible, yet. Still has a lot of healing to do.” My heart bottoms out when I realize he’s the important man she told us about—Xavier Delano. And of fucking course, he’s targeting me.
God? Why do I always attract the big, bad wolves?
He licks his lips, a crooked grin forming. “I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. I’m confident I’ll get a taste of her soon. Whether it’s tonight… or another time.”
I feel my face bleach of color, and it’s becoming increasingly harder to keep from blowing chunks all over his snakeskin Armani shoes. He would definitely blend in with the place then.
The remaining men choose their targets, and soon, Francesca is leading us out of the door and back toward the deep woods. Crickets chatter, and the biting wind ravages our brittle statures. If we weren’t so tense, we’d bend like rubber beneath the strong gusts.
A massive bonfire rages directly behind the house, dozens of people crowded around it, bundled in warm clothing and drinks in hand. There are also several large TVs placed sporadically around. According to Francesca, the hunters will wear body cams, providing entertainment and viewing pleasure for the other guests.
My breathing escalates as I face the endless trees, shadows flickering from the fire behind us. The scent of fear emanates from the six of us as we line up, and I break out into a cold sweat. My boots sink into the mud, suctioning my feet deeply into the frigid earth. Part of me desperately wishes it was tar instead, granting me the fortune of getting stuck here.
Already, I’m plagued with memories of sprinting through these woods and coming so close to victory, only for Sydney to appear behind a tree, lips curled into an evil smile and reeking of malevolence.
What if she does it again? I think I’ll kill her if she does. Rip the arrow out of my body myself and st
ab it into her instead.