Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Olivia
Sunday
" Y ou did so well," he says, and the praise feels invigorating. "You took every inch I gave you. Swallowed it all like the good girl I knew you would be."
Good girl . The words hit like a drug, flooding my system with endorphins that make me want to purr, to arch into his touch, to do whatever it takes to earn more of that approval from him.
But even as I bask in his attention, even as I allow myself to believe that this moment feels good, I can sense change coming, hanging in the air around us like a dark mist. There's a sudden tension in his posture, urgency in the way his eyes keep checking the broken windows, an alertness that suggests the people talking in his ear don’t like what’s happening here.
He's preparing to leave.
The realization is ice cold, shocking my system back to life. He’s leaving.
"Don't go," I whisper, and the words come out broken and desperate. I can’t bear the thought of being in this place alone after knowing what it’s like to be consumed by his overwhelming presence. "Please don't leave me here."
His expression almost looks pained. Like he doesn’t want to say what comes next.
"I have to," he says, and there's a numbness in his voice. "The producers don’t like how… possessive I am of you. They want to take you from me. They want me to end it, Olivia."
The use of my real name instead of the nickname he's given me makes me sit up straight, paying that much more attention to his words. He’s saying this to show his dominance over me. This is information I need if I want to survive until dawn.
"There's another hunter coming," he continues, his voice unable to hide his growing stress. "Someone else like me but not like me. They’ll come in and kill you immediately. There won’t be games. It’ll be over before I can stop it if they get to you."
Another hunter. Yeah that’s exactly what I fucking need right now. Just when things are looking up and I actually believe I’m going to live until morning, reality comes crashing back down on me. Fuck this place.
"Why would they do that?" I ask, though part of me already understands it’s for their viewership. “How many of us are left?”
"The people running this show want me to take you out," he says, his hands moving to cup my face, taking me by surprise, "and they're getting impatient. They want results that’ll take the audience by storm. They want drama and killing you now would be the ultimate betrayal."
I don’t miss how he doesn’t answer my question.
The show. The cameras. The invisible audience that has been consuming the idea of us all weekend, getting attached to The Hunter and his prey. A lion falling for lamb.
"They want me dead," I sigh, running my hands over my face.
"They want everyone dead," he corrects, and there's something almost protective in his tone now. "That was always the point. But you’re mine . I can’t kill you when I want to keep you so fucking badly, Liv."
"So they're sending backup," I say, understanding dawning on me. "Someone to finish what you won't."
"Someone to finish what I can’t.” His hands tighten slightly on my face, not enough to hurt but enough to ensure I'm paying complete attention to what he's telling me.
"Because you're mine now, Olivia. Mine to keep, mine to protect, mine to do with as I please. And I'm not done playing with you yet."
Mine to protect . The words send relief flooding through my system.
He's not abandoning me or discarding his toy now that he's taken what he wants from me. Whatever comes next, whatever threats emerge from this forest of fucking horrors, I won't face them alone.
"Stay put," he says, rising to his feet easily, letting his muscular frame tower over me and dominate the space. "Don't run, don't hide, don't try to be clever. Just wait here until I come back."
"What if you don't come back?" The question slips out before I can stop it, revealing my newfound fear of abandonment.
The grin that spreads across his face is predatory and reassuring at the same time. It’s perfect.
"I always come back for what's mine," he says, and the certainty in his voice makes me believe him despite every rational reason to doubt a killer.
He moves toward the broken window, but he pauses at the threshold, looking back at me with an expression I can't quite interpret.
"Olivia," he says, and something in his tone makes me straighten even more. "If someone else finds you before I get back… Fight them. Fight like your life depends on it, because it does."
Fight . Because if I don’t, I won’t see the sun rise tomorrow.
Is there even a half million dollar prize? Or was the plan to kill every last one of us all along?
"Use whatever you have to," he continues, his eyes scanning the cabin's interior like he's looking for a weapon, but he doesn’t immediately find anything. "Be smart, be vicious, be whatever you have to be to stay alive until I can deal with the problem."
Then he's gone, disappearing through the broken window, fading into the forest like a ghost.
The cabin feels enormous without his presence, too big and too empty and too vulnerable.
I'm alone.
Alone with the smell of sweat and sex hanging in the air, and with the taste of him still coating my throat… and the ache between my legs that reminds me just how much I want to belong to him.
He gave me instructions to wait, to trust him, to believe that he will return for me and we’ll walk out of here together. He won’t kill me.
My body doesn’t entirely feel like my own as I rise from the old floorboards. It’s looser somehow, like a weight I didn't know I was carrying has been released through the simple act of surrendering to the most dominant predator I’ve ever known.
But there's pain too. Physical discomfort from being out here for the entire weekend, sleeping on the ground and in tree roots. It’s taking a toll on my body now. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this worn down in my life.
I barricade the windows as best I can with furniture and debris, creating obstacles that won't stop another hunter from getting in, but it’ll slow them down. The work helps distract me from the growing anxiety about being alone out here.
But even as I work, trying to secure the ranger station as much as I can, my mind drifts back to him.
The way his hands grip my body and take full control….
And the praise. God, the fucking praise. "Good girl" delivered in that rough voice is enough to make me unravel for him.
I position myself where I can see both the door and the windows, flare gun ready in hand, mind prepared for anything that’ll come next.
Either way, I won't disappoint him.
Even if it kills me.
Especially if it kills me.
I'm ready. I refuse to die tonight.