Chapter 9 Ophelia #2
He pulls back, wipes my face with the soft hem of his t-shirt, and looks at me with a softness that makes me want to cry.
“What a good little wife you’re going to make,” he murmurs, thumb brushing the line of my jaw.
He stands, tucks himself away, then reaches down to haul me upright. I stagger, legs still jelly, but he steadies me, one hand on my hip, the other at the back of my neck.
He kisses me again, slower this time. I taste salt, skin, and something like victory.
“You’re a mess,” he says, but there’s something almost affectionate in it.
I glare at him, defiant even as a missed drop of cum drips down my chin.
He crouches, bringing us eye to eye. “You want to know what this is about?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “It’s about making sure you never forget who owns you. I’m training you to be the perfect wife.”
I spit the taste of him onto the carpet before wiping the drop off my chin and smearing it on his shirt. “You don’t own me.”
He smiles, all teeth. “Not yet. But I’m working on it.”
He’s still watching, something dark and alive behind his eyes.
I want to hit him, to wipe the smug off his face. Instead, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, smearing the last of him away.
“Is that all?” I ask.
He laughs, soft. “For now.”
I turn to go, but he stops me with a hand on my arm. This time, the grip is gentle. “You’re stronger than they think,” he says. “And we’re going to party.”
I don’t know if it’s a compliment or a warning.
All I can do is stare, every inch of me trembling with hate, and want, and a strange, wild freedom.
He didn’t break me.
But I think he’s right.
He’s working on it.
And on the night of the Hunt, he will.
“Let’s go show them what I’ve done to you,” he says, voice gentle now.
He drags me to the bathroom, combs my hair out so it fans around my face, and then leads me down the stairs, hand firm at the small of my back, like I’m a trophy he’s just won.
I want to scream, to run, to die.
But all I do is walk, head high, eyes forward, every step a declaration that I am not broken.
The party has mutated since I went upstairs.
The atmosphere is thicker, every window fogged by body heat and spilled liquor.
The lights are lower now, and the music’s gone tribal—just bass, drums, and the intermittent moan of a vocalist I can’t understand.
It feels less like a house party and more like the inside of a predator’s ribcage.
Caius never lets go of me as we descend, his grip at the base of my neck, steering me with absolute ease.
The people on the stairs press flat against the walls as we pass; some of the girls throw me looks equal parts disgust and envy, and the guys measure me up, eyes flicking from my bruised knees to my swollen lips to the proud, sick smile on Caius’s face.
He cuts through the crowd toward the bar, which isn’t a bar so much as a folding table buckling under the weight of open bottles and red cups. He leans in, voice cutting through the noise. “Stay here.”
I do. I’m not sure I could move even if I wanted to.
He disappears for a second, swallowed by the crowd. My throat is raw, every swallow a reminder, and I’m suddenly, viciously aware of the way the room orbits around the Feral Boys.
On the couch by the fireplace, Rhett and Colton have set up their own fiefdom, holding court with a rotating cast of girls and hangers-on. Rhett looks up as I catch his eye, grins, and offers a lazy salute. Colton just nods, eyes cold and unreadable.
Every conversation in the room seems to stop and start in time with them, like they’re running the place on a pulse.
I see girls sitting in clusters, heads close together, glancing up at the boys and then away, like flocks of birds checking for hawks.
The guys hover, circling, but never closing the gap.
It’s a dance, and everyone knows the steps.
I can’t tell if I’m the star or the goat.
“—Night Hunt is going to be wild this year,” says a girl to my left, voice pitched just above the music.
“Yeah, my cousin did it last time, but this year I hear they’re doing solo hunts. Apparently that one girl died and they changed the way it was traditionally done to ensure the wife doesn’t escape. Oh my God, I also heard they had to use a taser to keep one of the girls from escaping.”
“They let her go after?”
“After the baby. But only because her family paid triple tuition.”
The words crawl into my head and lodge there. I scan the room, looking for other prey. Most of the girls look like they’re here for the thrill, or the money, or the chance to latch onto someone with a name that matters.
I have no idea why I’m here. No idea why the Board picked me for this horror show. I was nothing worthy, and quite frankly my father deserved whatever punishment was in store for him. I didn’t deserve this shit.
Caius returns with two cups, one clear, one brown. He hands me the brown and waits for me to sip. It burns, sweet and sharp, the aftertaste pure ethanol. Grabbing my hand, he takes me to a couch and pushes me down.
He settles next to me, the heat of his body an anchor. “Do you know why they call it the Night Hunt?” he asks, not looking at me.
“No.”
He sips his drink, tongue darting out to catch a drop. “Because it starts after midnight on the full moon. And it’s not over until sunrise.”
He says it like a fact, like he’s explaining an old family recipe. There’s no gloating, no drama.
“What happens if someone gets hurt?” I ask.
He looks at me, and the darkness in his eyes is bottomless. “No one cares.”
He lets the silence linger, then laughs, quiet and genuine. “Relax, little vixen. It’s just a game.”
“Funny. You don’t strike me as someone who plays games to lose.”
He leans in, teeth grazing my ear. “Only when the prize is worth it.”
I shiver. The cup trembles in my hand, and I drain it just to have something to do. The liquor hits my empty stomach and makes my head float a little.
Across the room, Rhett and Colton are watching us. Colton’s got a girl on his lap, but he’s not touching her. He just stares, eyes like ice cubes, mouth a straight line. Rhett is talking, but his attention keeps flicking to me, then to Caius, then back to his drink.
I remember what Ms. Valence said. If you choose not to be, the Hunt will decide your value in other ways.
A pair of hands lands on my shoulders from behind. I jolt, nearly spill my drink.
Julian. He smells like weed and vanilla. He leans close, lips at my ear, voice soft enough to keep the others from hearing.
“Bet you didn’t think you’d end up here,” he says, and it’s not really a question.
“Couldn’t have imagined it in my worst fever dream.”
He laughs, a sound that’s all teeth and no joy. “It’s better to get it over with. Submit to him and the Hunt will go easier on you. I tried to warn you.”
I glare at him. “About what?”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You’re Cai’s now.”
He says it with a finality that makes my skin crawl. Then he’s gone, replaced by Caius who clicks his tongue. “Ignore Jules. He’s an idiot. Come let’s go get some air.”
He guides me to the edge of the room, away from the sudden influx of screaming girls on the dance floor swaying their hips to some 00’s song. The wall is cool against my back, grounding.
He leans in, foreheads touching. “They want you broken before the Hunt. They’ll do whatever it takes. Don’t let them.”
I try to laugh, but the sound dies in my throat. “You’re doing a hell of a job yourself.”
He shakes his head, slow. “That’s not breaking. That’s making you strong enough to survive them.”
I want to believe him, but my brain is mush and my body is still on fire.
He kisses me again, this time gentle. When he pulls back, his eyes search mine for something. Maybe hope, maybe defiance, maybe just a sign that I’m still in there somewhere.
He smiles, faint. “The Boys are about to have some fun, we can watch, or we can go outside and have a drink.”
I’m not afraid.
I’m something else.
I’m… determined. To win. To conquer. To hold onto everything I am, no matter what happens to me before and during the Hunt.
Caius grabs my hand. “Let’s go. Rhett’s getting naked and you’re not allowed to see anyone else naked,” he says, and I follow, because I have no other option.
As we leave, I catch Rhett’s voice, loud and amused. “What? You don’t want her to see that mine’s bigger, eh, Cai?”
Caius just laughs and drags me out into the dark.
For the first time, I wonder what would happen if I let him win. If I let his dark soul consume mine.
Would it feel like falling in love?
Or would it just feel like falling?