Chapter 18Selene
Chapter
Eighteen
SELENE
T he woods stretch endlessly before me, and my heart pounds in my chest as I weave through the trees. The shadows—those dark, crawling things—are still behind me. I can feel them, closer than before, creeping at the edges of my vision like tendrils of smoke, ready to engulf me. The cold morning air bites at my skin, but it’s the shadows that chill me to the bone. My muscles burn as I push forward, desperation fueling each step.
I glance over my shoulder, the shadows growing, moving unnaturally fast. They're closing in, and I know that if they catch me, there’s no escaping what comes next. Fear twists in my chest, and I stumble, nearly falling as my foot catches on a root. But then, something changes.
There’s a sudden shift, an invisible barrier that I seem to cross without realizing. The shadows... stop. They writhe at the edge of the treeline, like they’re tethered to some invisible boundary, unable to move forward. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I glance around, confused.
When I look up, I freeze.
The manor stands before me, rising from the mist as if conjured out of nowhere. Its towering stone walls loom, shrouded in the early light of dawn. Dark ivy clings to the edges, crawling up toward the windows, which are like empty eyes staring down at me. I hadn't seen it before—not until I crossed that unseen line—and now that it's here, the shadows that chased me seem to retreat, almost like they’re afraid of this place.
Relief surges through me, but it’s tainted with suspicion. I hesitate, my feet rooted to the ground. Is this place truly a safe haven? Or is it just another trap in this twisted game?
I step forward cautiously, scanning the grounds. It’s quiet here, too quiet for comfort. The woods at my back seem alive with menace, but this place... there’s a strange stillness to it, almost as if time itself has slowed down.
Movement in the garden catches my attention. A figure, bent over, tending to the earth. He looks so out of place here, among the creeping vines and the dark stone walls. The man stands, brushing dirt off his hands, his graying hair catching the soft light of dawn.
I move forward cautiously, my instincts telling me to stay on guard. He doesn’t seem to notice me at first, but when he does, he turns slowly, as if he’s been expecting me.
“Nothing to fear,” he says, his voice calm and steady. He gestures to the garden tools scattered around him. “Just a caretaker.”
I stop a few paces away, still unsure. “Who are you?”
He smiles kindly, his worn face softening in a way that makes him seem more human than anyone else I’ve encountered in this nightmare. “Name’s Gerald. I’ve been here a long time, keeping the grounds. You’ve nothing to worry about from me.”
His words, though gentle, do little to ease the tension in my body. “How do I know that?”
Gerald chuckles lightly, wiping his hands on his pants. “If I was anything like those men chasing you, you’d know by now.”
I narrow my eyes, still not convinced. “Do you know about the Hunt?”
The question pulls a somber expression from him. He lets out a long breath, his eyes growing distant, as if remembering something long forgotten. “Aye, I know about the Hunt. Seen more than a few of them in my time. None of them ever ended well. ”
I frown, stepping a little closer. “What do you mean?”
“No human woman has ever made it past the first night,” he says quietly, his voice laced with a sadness that makes my skin crawl. “They’re claimed by the morning, their souls taken. It’s always been that way.”
A chill runs through me. No one makes it past the first night? But I did.
“I’m still here,” I whisper, more to myself than to him.
Gerald looks at me for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as if seeing me in a different light. “Maybe you’re not like the others.”
“I don’t think I am,” I murmur. "I don’t think I’m even human."
His gaze sharpens at my words, but he says nothing for a long moment. Finally, he whispers under his breath, “Nothing is as it seems.”
The familiar phrase echoes in my mind. I’ve heard it before, from Damien and the others. Hearing it from Gerald—a man who seems so far removed from their world—makes it all the more eerie.
“What do you mean?” I ask, my voice quiet, my heart pounding. “What do you know?”
But before he can answer, I hear footsteps behind me.
Lucien.
He strides toward us with purpose, his gaze flicking between me and Gerald with barely concealed impatience. He looks... different. His power feels muted, dimmed by the rising sun. The cool confidence that usually radiates from him seems dulled, though not entirely gone.
“What are you doing out here?” Lucien asks, his voice low and dismissive as he addresses Gerald.
“Just tending the garden,” Gerald replies evenly, his tone calm. But there’s something there, something unspoken, like a secret only he knows.
Lucien barely acknowledges the response. His attention shifts entirely to me, his eyes narrowing. “We need to go inside. It’s not safe out here.”
I glance back at Gerald, wanting to ask him more, to understand what he knows about this place and the Hunt. But Lucien’s hand is already on my arm, pulling me toward the manor’s doors. I don’t bother resisting.
As Lucien leads me away, I give Gerald one last look, but he just nods, his expression unreadable.
The manor looms ahead, dark and foreboding against the pale light of day. As I walk beside Lucien, my mind races, trying to make sense of what just happened. His touch still lingers on my skin, his voice in my ear, and yet I can’t shake the sense of dread creeping up inside me.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. There’s something different about him now. He’s quieter, more guarded. I can feel the tension in his body, the way his steps seem more deliberate, as if he’s holding back. Is it because the sun is rising? Is his power fading?
We approach the massive iron doors of the manor, and I hesitate for a moment. The building looks ancient, with towering stone walls and ivy creeping up its sides. It’s the kind of place that shouldn’t exist in the real world, a place that belongs in myths and legends, not just outside of Washington, D.C.
Lucien notices my hesitation and shoots me a look. “Nervous?”
“A little,” I admit, glancing up at the manor’s dark windows. “This place... feels wrong.”
He smirks. “Everything feels wrong to you, doesn’t it?”
I don’t respond, just follow him inside. The doors creak open as we step into the foyer, the smell of old wood and dust hitting me. It’s colder inside than it was outside, and the silence feels oppressive, like the walls are closing in.
As we enter the grand hall, I notice the figure sitting by the fire immediately. He’s one of them—one of the warlocks who hunted me through the night. My pulse quickens, and a cold knot forms in my stomach. His presence feels different from Lucien’s, darker somehow, more calculating. The firelight flickers across his sharp features, and he looks up, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine .
Lucien tenses beside me, and for a brief moment, I feel his hand tighten on my arm.
The man by the fire rises slowly, his movements deliberate, as if he’s in no hurry. His eyes flick to Lucien briefly before returning to me, studying me with unnerving focus. There’s something dark and possessive in the way he looks at me, but then his lips curl into a smooth, almost disarming smile.
“You’ve got nothing to fear from me right now,” he says, his voice low, and despite his words, I’m not entirely convinced.
I take a step back, my instincts still screaming at me to run, even though there’s no use in trying. He’s one of the powerful ones—I remember that much from last night. He was one of the warlocks that sent fear coursing through me, his magic pulsing like a living force in the night as he hunted me.
Lucien releases my arm and steps forward slightly, his body a wall between me and the man by the fire. “Busy night?” the warlock says, his gaze flicking to Lucien again, this time with a hint of amusement in his eyes.
Lucien doesn’t answer right away. I can feel the tension radiating from him, his posture rigid as if he’s expecting a confrontation. He’s watching the other man closely, like a predator sizing up its competition. “Busy enough.”
I step a little further into the room, my eyes darting between them. The air is thick with unspoken words, with the heavy weight of whatever’s been simmering between these two since the Hunt began. I don’t know what their history is, but it’s clear they aren’t on friendly terms.
The warlock’s eyes land on me again, and I swallow hard, trying not to let my fear show. “And you,” he says, his voice dipping lower, more intimate, “how are you finding the Hunt so far?”
His words send a ripple of unease through me, but there’s no malice in his tone. Not yet, at least. He steps closer, and I feel myself stiffen as he stops just a few feet away, his presence overwhelming. “I’m... surviving,” I say, my voice coming out quieter than I’d intended. It’s all I can manage under the weight of his gaze.
His lips twitch in amusement, though there’s no humor in his eyes. "Surviving," he repeats, as if tasting the word. "That’s more than most can say by this time."
Lucien’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and direct. "This isn’t the time to play games."
The warlock raises an eyebrow, clearly unbothered by Lucien’s tone. "Oh, but it’s always time for games, Lucien." His attention shifts back to me, and he takes a small step forward, his eyes narrowing slightly as he examines me. "Especially when the prey is as... intriguing as this one."
I fight the urge to shrink back, my pulse racing in my throat. I glance at Lucien, unsure what to do, but he remains as still as stone, his eyes locked on the other warlock, tension coiling in the space between them.
The man before me lets the silence stretch for a moment longer before speaking again. "You can call me Adrian," he says, his voice smooth and dangerous, like a blade sliding through silk.
“Selene,” I say, almost on instinct, as if the name is pulled from me by some invisible force. The moment the word leaves my lips, I regret it. I shouldn't be telling someone so dangerous anything about me.
Adrian’s eyes flicker with interest, his lips curling into a subtle smile as he considers my name, letting it roll around in his mind. “Selene,” he repeats, his voice low, savoring each syllable as if it holds more meaning than it should. The way he says it sends a chill down my spine, a strange mix of both fear and something I can’t quite define. The tension between us grows, thick and heavy, as his gaze darkens.
“It suits you,” he murmurs, stepping just a little closer, and I feel the air shift, like gravity itself is pulling me toward him. "I imagine we will be seeing a lot more of each other during this Hunt, Selene."
There’s something about him that feels more dangerous than the others, something I can’t quite place but makes my skin prickle with unease.
Lucien moves closer, finally stepping fully between us. "Don’t get too close, Adrian. We both know how this ends. "
Adrian’s smile fades slightly, and for the first time, I see a flicker of something darker in his expression. "We’ll see," he says, his voice quiet but laced with a warning. "We’ll see how it ends, Lucien."
“Where’s Ronan?” Lucien all but barks out, looking around.
Adrian raises an eyebrow, then shrugs. “Haven’t seen him. I assume he’s still licking his wounds from the last time he tried to take her.”
Lucien's jaw tightens, and I can sense the frustration radiating off him. He seems annoyed that the man isn't here. They know something’s wrong, even if they won’t admit it. The Hunt is shifting, and none of them have a clear grasp on it anymore. "You sure about that?"
Adrian’s gaze flicks back to me, something dark swirling in his eyes. “He’ll show up when it matters.”
I take a step back, feeling the weight of their attention pressing down on me. It’s almost unbearable, the way they look at me, as if I’m the key to something none of us fully understand yet.
But before the tension can escalate further, the door to the hall swings open, and I freeze. Damien strides in, his face a mask of barely contained fury. His eyes sweep the room, landing on Lucien first, then on me.
The shift is immediate. His power, though diminished in the daylight, still feels like a tangible force, crackling in the air around him .
“What’s going on here?” Damien’s voice is low, dangerous.
Lucien straightens, his shoulders squaring as he faces Damien. “We were just catching up,” he says, his tone casual, but I can hear the edge beneath it. “And you?”
Damien’s eyes narrow, and I can feel his gaze burn into me. He knows. He can sense what happened between Lucien and me, the same way I can feel his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. His jaw clenches, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s about to explode.
“You’ve been with her,” Damien growls, stepping closer to Lucien. “You couldn’t wait, could you?”
Lucien’s smirk returns, but there’s nothing warm about it. “You’re one to talk. We all know how close you’ve gotten.”
The tension in the room spikes, the air thick with their barely restrained anger. I glance between them, my heart racing. This isn’t about me. This is about control, about who holds the upper hand in this twisted game.
Damien takes another step toward Lucien, his fists clenched at his sides. “This isn’t a competition, Lucien. You know the rules.”
“Rules?” Lucien scoffs, his voice dripping with disdain. “The rules don’t apply to you, do they? You’re the facilitator. The one who gets special treatment from the Order. But guess what? The rest of us still have to play the game. And as far as I'm concerned, she's still our prey.”
Lucien’s words hit me like a punch to the gut. Prey. The word lingers in the air, sharp and cutting, and I can’t help the fear that surges through me. It’s as if he’s reminding me of the very thing I’ve been trying to forget—that to them, I’m nothing more than a prize to be caught, a game to be won. The delicate truce that’s kept me safe so far suddenly feels like it could snap at any moment.
But beyond the fear, there’s a sting of something else, something I don’t want to acknowledge—hurt. As twisted as this whole situation is, part of me had almost started to believe that I was more than just prey to them, that maybe this fragile connection with Lucien, with Damien, was something real. Something that went beyond the Hunt.
But Lucien’s cold, disdainful words pull me back to reality. I am prey. They’ve never seen me as anything more. Anxiety twists in my chest, making it hard to breathe as I stand between them, knowing that this fragile peace could shatter with just one wrong move.
And here I am, in the middle of it all—caught between the dangers of their desire and the fear that I might not survive much longer if this truce breaks.
“I don’t care about the game,” Damien snaps, his voice low and dangerous. “This is about more than that. She’s not yours to claim.”
Lucien’s smile fades, replaced by something darker, more dangerous. “Is that what you think? That you can protect her from all of us?”
Before I can react, Lucien takes a step toward Damien, and the two men are standing chest to chest, their power crackling in the air between them. But even in the dim light, I can see how their strength is waning, how the daylight is draining them. They’re not as invincible as they want me to believe.
“Stop it,” I say, my voice louder than I intended. Both men turn to me, their expressions unreadable. “This isn’t helping.”
Damien’s gaze softens slightly as he looks at me, but Lucien’s remains hard, his eyes still burning with anger.
“Adrian,” Damien calls out, without breaking eye contact with Lucien, “did you know about this?”
Adrian doesn’t answer right away, but the silence stretches on too long. My pulse quickens, and I realize that this might be spiraling out of control.
Finally, Adrian steps forward, shaking his head slowly. “No. But it doesn’t surprise me.”
Lucien lets out a low growl, and before anyone can react, Damien’s power flares—briefly, dangerously—before he steps back, his breathing heavy. He’s holding himself together, but barely.
I take a step back myself, suddenly aware of the sheer weight of what’s happening. These men are fighting over me, and I can’t let that continue. Not like this.
“We need to stop,” I say, my voice steady but firm. I glance between the warlocks, my heart pounding in my chest. The tension in the room is thick, like a thread about to snap, but I can’t stay quiet any longer. “This isn’t going to help any of us.”
Damien and Lucien exchange a look, their postures still tense, but I can see the fight slowly drain out of them. The fire in their eyes fades, replaced by something more calculating, something colder. For a moment, there’s silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.
Lucien breaks it first, his voice clipped as he tries to regain control of the situation. “We can increase the wards on the manor, reinforce it before the next night.”
“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “That’s not enough. We need to go to the clearing before the moon rises. There’s no telling what will happen when the blood moon is full, and we shouldn’t risk staying here.”
Lucien chuckles darkly, exchanging an incredulous glance with Damien, but there’s something unsettling in their amusement. “You think we should go out there and fight them?” he asks, his voice thick with disbelief.
“Yes,” I snap back. “We can’t keep hiding. The shadows are out there, and they’re hunting us. We need to stop them before they catch us. ”
Damien’s gaze sharpens, and his expression turns serious. “The shadows aren’t just hunting us, Selene. They belong to the Order.”
I blink, confused. “What do you mean?”
“They’re sent by the Order to fix the balance of the Hunt,” Damien explains. “The creatures—the shadows—belong to them. They exist to make sure the rules are followed.”
I narrow my eyes, my frustration boiling over. “Then why can’t you stop them? You’re the facilitator . Isn’t this your responsibility?”
Damien shakes his head slowly, his eyes filled with something I can’t quite read—regret, maybe. “It’s not within my power to control them. The shadows are beyond even me. They do what the Order commands.”
A cold chill seeps into my bones at his words. “So, what’s keeping us safe here?”
Adrian steps forward, his voice smooth and calm. “I’ve put up runes around the manor. This place belongs to my family, and I’ve combined my magic with the protections that were already in place. For now, the shadows can’t breach these walls.”
“ For now ?” I ask, my voice cracking with uncertainty. “How can I trust that you’ll keep me safe?”
The three of them look at each other, and for a brief moment, I can see the conflict on their faces—torn between their own desires and the threat that looms over all of us .
Damien steps forward, holding out his arm. “You want proof? Then we’ll make a pact.” He looks at the others, and slowly, Lucien and Adrian step forward, offering their wrists. The three warlocks cross their wrists together, and I can feel the surge of power in the air, like a current crackling between them.
“We bind ourselves to this pact,” Damien says, his voice low and steady. “In this manor, we will not claim your soul.”
Lucien’s eyes flash with something dark, but he nods. “Not in this place.”
Adrian, the last to speak, smiles softly. “You are safe here.”
As they make the vow, I feel the weight of their power settle over me, binding us all together. It’s like invisible chains wrapping around my soul, but for the first time, I don’t feel trapped. There’s a strange sense of security in the power they’ve just promised me, though I can’t shake the feeling that this safety is temporary.
Adrian breaks the silence, his voice lighter now, but still serious. “We’ve got time before the night falls again. I suggest we all get some rest before the Hunt resumes.”
I want to argue, to press them further about the shadows and the Order, but exhaustion weighs heavily on my body. With everything that’s happened, I can feel my strength draining, and Adrian’s suggestion feels like the only logical option .
Damien turns toward me, his gaze softening slightly. “Rest, Selene. We’ll need our strength for what’s to come.”
Reluctantly, I nod, my eyes drifting to the window where the sun hangs low in the sky. The blood moon is coming, and with it, something darker, something far more dangerous than anything I’ve faced before. But for now, I’m safe—at least, as safe as I can be in a house full of warlocks.