Run Little Fawn (Hunter’s Mark #1)

Chapter 19

THE FAWN

The shrill beep of my alarm pierces the stillness of the night, jolting me from a restless slumber. I roll over, my hand instinctively reaching for the warm body that should be beside me, but my fingers find only cold, rumpled sheets.

That's right.

Lucian is gone.

A strange pang of disappointment flickers in my chest, a strange ache that I'm not quite ready to name.

I tell myself it's just the adrenaline, the lingering rush of our training sessions and the intensity of his gaze on mine.

But deep down, I know it's more than that.

I shake my head, pushing the thought aside as I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. I can't afford to dwell on what might be, not when the third hunt is looming on the horizon.

I need to focus, to put into practice all the lessons Lucian has taught me.

As I pad across the room, my mind whirs with the possibilities. I think back to our conversation, to the way he spoke of not just blending in, but of becoming someone else entirely.

It's a skill I've never considered before, a tool I've never had in my arsenal.

But now, with Lucian's words echoing in my head, I feel a flicker of excitement, a thrill of anticipation that has nothing to do with the hunt itself.

I'm eager to test myself, to see if I can truly disappear into the shadows.

I glance at the clock, the glowing numbers telling me it's just past three in the morning. The third hunt doesn't begin until seven, which gives me a few precious hours to prepare.

And I know exactly where to start.

I slip into my clothes, a nondescript pair of jeans and a dark hoodie that will help me blend into the night. I tuck my hair up under a baseball cap, the brim pulled low over my eyes. It's not much of a disguise, but it's a start.

I grab my bag, double-checking that I have everything I need. The black card Lucian gave me is tucked safely in my wallet, a reminder of the strange trust that's begun to grow between us.

I still don't fully understand his motives, but I'm starting to believe that he really does want to help me, in his own twisted way. That somehow, as impossible as it seems, he's just as much of a pawn of the Order as I am.

And maybe eventually, I'll be able to break through to him.

Or break away from him entirely.

As I step out into the hallway, the hotel is eerily quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the elevators. I make my way down to the lobby, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet.

The night clerk barely glances up as I pass by, too engrossed in his phone to pay me any mind. I slip out into the street, the cool night air washing over me like a balm.

The city is different at this hour, the usual bustle and noise replaced by a strange, almost otherworldly calm.

The streets are empty save for the occasional taxi, the sidewalks deserted but for a few stragglers stumbling home from a late night out.

I walk quickly, my head down and my hands shoved into my pockets. I have a destination in mind, a twenty-four-seven store I spotted on one of my earlier forays into the city.

It's a bit of a hike from the hotel, but I don't mind the distance. It gives me time to think, to plan my next move.

As I walk, my mind drifts back to Lucian, to the intensity of his gaze and the heat of his touch. I can still feel the ghost of his fingers on my skin, the way he made me shiver with just a look.

It's a dangerous thing, this attraction that's begun to simmer between us. I know I can't trust him, not by a long shot.

He's still the Hunter, and I'm still his prey.

But there's a part of me that wants to believe in the man beneath the monster, the glimmer of humanity that shines through when he lets his guard down.

I shake my head, pushing the thought aside. I can't afford to get distracted, not now. I need to focus on the task at hand, on becoming someone else entirely.

The store is a beacon of fluorescent light in the darkness, the windows glowing like a promise of salvation. I push through the doors, the bell above jingling merrily to announce my presence.

The clerk barely glances up from his magazine, his eyes glazed with boredom. "Welcome to QuickMart," he drones, the words rote and lifeless.

I nod in acknowledgment, already moving toward the aisles. I grab a basket, my eyes scanning the shelves for anything that might help me blend in.

A pair of nondescript black leggings, a plain white t-shirt, a gray hoodie with a logo I don't recognize. I toss them into the basket along with a pack of hair ties, a decidedly less attractive wallet, and a cheap pair of sunglasses.

Next step is a burner phone.

I grab one, plus a few refillable cards for minutes, and some snacks and other items that might prove useful. Gotta keep up on hygiene even when you're being hunted across the world by an annoyingly hot psychopath.

As I make my way toward the register, a flash of color near the counter catches my eye. It's a display of wigs, cheap synthetic things in a rainbow of hues. I pause, my fingers hovering over a short, spiky black one.

I could always just cut my hair, but that feels… I don't know.

Violating, somehow.

And with a wig, I can just ditch it for another. It's not my style at all, but that's exactly the point. I'm not Aria right now. I'm someone else. Whoever I need to be in order to escape, to survive.

I grab the wig, tossing it into my basket with a grin. It's perfect, a small but significant detail that will help me disappear into the crowd. As I approach the register, I feel a flicker of nerves. A momentary doubt.

What if it's not enough?

But I push the thought aside, steeling my resolve. I have to trust in my own abilities, in the lessons he's taught me. And I need to add my own flair to them, too. I have to believe that I can outsmart him. If not, what's the point in running at all?

The clerk rings up my purchases with a bored efficiency, barely glancing at the items as he scans them. I hand over the black card, my heart pounding in my chest as I wait for the transaction to go through.

But there's no issue, no sudden alarms or flashing lights. The machine beeps, the receipt prints, and just like that, I'm one step closer to becoming someone else entirely.

I grab my bags, hurrying out of the store before I can lose my nerve. The night air is cool on my skin, a welcome respite from the harsh fluorescent lights.

I duck into an alley, my fingers already reaching for the wig. I tug it on, adjusting it until it sits just right. The synthetic fibers are itchy against my scalp, but I ignore the discomfort. It's a small price to pay for anonymity.

Next, I strip off my hoodie and jeans, replacing them with the nondescript clothes from the store.

The leggings are a bit too tight, the shirt a bit too loose, but that's all part of the disguise. I'm not supposed to look put-together, not supposed to draw any attention.

I stuff my old clothes into my bag, along with the baseball cap and sunglasses. I'll need them later, when I'm ready to become Aria again.

But for now, I'm someone else entirely.

I'm a drifter, a loner, just another face in the crowd. I hunch my shoulders, adopting a slouching posture that screams, "Don't look at me."

I step out of the alley, blending seamlessly into the early morning foot traffic. No one spares me a second glance, their eyes sliding right over me as if I'm not even there.

It's a strange feeling, this invisibility. It's both exhilarating and terrifying, a rush of power and a pang of loneliness all at once. But it's necessary, a crucial part of the game I'm playing.

As I walk, my mind whirs with the possibilities.

Where will I go?

What will I do?

How will I stay one step ahead of Lucian?

The neon glow of the adult entertainment shop's sign flickers in my peripheral vision, a beacon of temptation amidst the predawn gloom.

I pause, my gaze drawn to the lingerie display in the window. A tantalizing array of lace and satin in shades of midnight and sin.

A sudden idea sparks in my mind, a flash of inspiration that sends a thrill down my spine. Why not take the disguise a step further? Become someone truly unrecognizable, even to myself?

Before I can second-guess myself, I'm pushing through the door, the bell above tinkling with a naughty promise.

The shop is dimly lit, the air thick with the heady scent of leather and lust. I keep my head down as I browse the racks, my fingertips skimming over the delicate fabrics with a reverence that borders on the obscene.

I settle on a set in a rich, deep burgundy. A daring balconette bra with a plunging neckline and a matching pair of high-waisted panties that leave little to the imagination. It's a far cry from anything I'd ever wear in my normal life, but that's precisely the point.

I'm shedding my skin, becoming someone new.

And even if it flies in the face of Lucian's advice to blend in as much as possible, I have an idea for a way to get under the Hunter's skin, if he backs me into a corner.

To turn the tables on him for a change.

As I make my way to the register, I spot a display of wigs, these ones far more high-end than the cheap synthetic one I'm currently wearing.

I pause, my gaze drawn to the flowing blond curls that are just about the exact opposite of any hairstyle I've ever worn. It's a wig that screams confidence, sex appeal, and a devil-may-care attitude. The exact opposite of the one I'm wearing right now.

Perfect.

I add it to my purchases, along with a few other items that catch my eye. A pair of fishnet stockings, a tube of blood-red lipstick, a small bottle of perfume with a musky, provocative scent.

The total is more than I'd normally spend on such frivolities, but I don't hesitate as I hand over Lucian's black card.

Let him wonder what I'm up to. Let him try to figure out my game if he is keeping tabs on what I spend.

Somehow, I doubt it. At first, before I got to know him, I thought he was capable of breaking the rules, but why would he go to all the trouble to help me if he wasn't interested in playing the game?

It's still not fair. Not by a long shot. It can't be when the premise is so wholly sadistic and twisted, but…

I think Lucian means what he says. He'll play by the rules—at least, the ones the Order has set up for us.

As I step out of the shop, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I glance at the screen, my heart skipping a beat as I realize I still have a few hours before the Hunt begins anew.

I can still taste you, little fawn.

Only a few hours before we begin again, and I won't be so easily satisfied next time.

A shudder runs down my spine for all the wrong reasons.

For once, I decide to text back, even though I'm not even sure the phone works both ways.

You'll have to catch me first.

The reply is almost immediate.

Oh, I will. But you'd better make it a challenge this time.

I roll my eyes, but the implication is clear. This time, Lucian himself has taught me the skills I need to play this fucked up game. And I'd better make it worth his while.

And I know just how to do it.

I pull up a travel app as I walk down the street, my fingers flying over the screen as I search for flights leaving within the next hour.

There are a few options, but one in particular catches my eye—a non-stop to Las Vegas, departing in just 45 minutes.

It's a risk, booking a flight on Lucian's dime. But it's a risk I'm willing to take.

He promised to give me a fighting chance. And I'm going to hold him to that promise.

I book the flight with a few taps, my heart pounding with a mixture of exhilaration and fear.

This is it.

The ultimate test of his word, of the strange trust that's begun to grow between us.

And time to figure out if I can put to use what I've learned.