Chapter 10
Ten
AOIFE O'MALLEY
My head throbbed as I tried to focus, my fingers fumbling uselessly with the edge of the bedcover in the lavish guest room cum prison cell I’d been given.
What was I supposed to do? I wished I had my phone, but of course they weren’t about to give me that.
Speaking of they, it had been eerily quiet for the last few hours.
I was brought some food—a cheese sandwich, muffin and juice, along with plenty of bottled water—then nothing.
Thoughts of Alexander swirled in my mind. I hadn't counted on the attraction resurfacing, on the way his touch had ignited something in me I had long thought dead. It had been a mistake, coming here alone, thinking I could pull this off. But now, I was in deep trouble...
The door crashed open, and two masked men surged into the room. I reacted instinctively, grabbing the heavy bedside lamp and swinging it at the first attacker. He dodged with practiced ease, catching my wrist and twisting until I dropped my makeshift weapon.
"Don't fight, bitch," he growled through his mask. "We've got orders to bring you out intact, but intact doesn't mean unharmed."
I spat in the eyehole of his mask. "Fuck you. Who are you even?"
The second man laughed, the sound muffled but unmistakably amused as they dragged me from the room. I catalogued everything—their height, build, the way they moved. Not men I recognised. They looked … different. More like independent professionals, brought in for whatever this was.
They hustled me through the house, avoiding the main areas where staff might have been present, using service corridors I hadn't known existed, even though the place seemed desolate. How odd.
The estate was a maze, and I quickly lost track of our route until suddenly, we were outside, the cool night air hitting my face.
They dragged me into a clearing at the edge of a thick copse of trees. One of the men checked his watch, then shoved me forward with unexpected force.
"Run!" he shouted, his voice echoing in the night.
I stood frozen, mind racing as I assessed the situation. The two men, the isolated location, the command—a setup, obviously, but for what?
"Are you deaf?" the man snarled, pulling a handgun from his waistband and firing a shot into the air. The crack of the bullet made me flinch. "I said RUN!"
Self-preservation kicked in, and I sprinted into the trees, my mind working furiously. This was no simple abduction. There was a greater purpose, a game being played with rules I didn't yet understand.
I ran for what felt like hours but could only have been minutes, pushing through the dense undergrowth, searching for any sign of the estate's boundaries.
But each time I thought I had found an exit—a gate, a break in the trees, a service road—I encountered men in tactical gear, their faces hidden behind masks, silently redirecting me back into the hunting grounds with raised weapons.
The entire perimeter was locked down. I was trapped.
A familiar laugh floated through the trees, carried on the night breeze. I stopped, my pulse pounding in my ears as I strained to listen.
What— Did I hear that right? Beatrice?
Before I could process the implications, speakers hidden among the trees crackled to life.
"Good evening, my darlings." Beatrice's voice purred through the night, dripping with malice disguised as honey. "Welcome to tonight's entertainment."
I pressed myself against a tree trunk, scanning the darkness for cameras, for any sign of observation.
"You're wondering what this is all about," Beatrice continued. "It's quite simple, really. This is a hunt, and you, my dears, are the prey."
The words sent ice through my veins. The Hunt was legend spoken of in hushed whispers in our world, a practice so brutal that even my father—a man who had ordered executions without blinking—spoke of it with disgust.
"When the sun rises, if you're still breathing—which I doubt—Ronan Moore will sign over control of Ashford Estate to me in exchange for his precious fake brother's life.
And the O'Malleys? Well, they'll be easy pickings. My husband might be a fool, but he knows which side his bread will be buttered once I’m through with this. "
Beatrice's laugh echoed through the trees again.
"Did you really think I wouldn't notice your little scheme, Aoife?
Seducing Alexander to manipulate your way into the Flanagan family?
Is it really revenge you want, or more gain?
Amateur move, darling. You should have taken me more seriously—we could have been partners instead of. .. this."
Anger flared hot in my chest. I had underestimated Beatrice, dismissed her as Patrick O'Brien's trophy wife rather than the calculating viper she clearly was.
"So run, my pretty little foxes," Beatrice's voice dropped to a seductive whisper. "Run while you can. My hunters are eager to begin, and I've promised them quite the bonus for making this entertaining."
The speakers went silent, leaving only the sounds of my ragged breathing and the distant rustling of leaves.
A scream shattered the night—male, agonized, cut short with terrifying suddenness. Then another, different voice. Closer.
The hunt had begun.
I pushed away from the tree and ran, no longer searching for an exit but for a weapon, shelter, or anything that might give me a chance to survive until dawn.
I had no illusions about Beatrice's intentions—even if Alexander and I lasted until sunrise, Beatrice had no reason to keep us alive once she had what she wanted.
My only hope was to find Alexander. Two prey working together might stand a chance against the hunters. If he would listen. If he would trust me after I had stabbed him the way I did.
If he was still alive when I got to him.
The irony wasn't lost on me—seeking alliance with the very man I wasn’t supposed to even look at.
The man who had been instrumental in my father’s killing.
But a sense of survival made for strange bedfellows, and right now, Alexander Moore was the only potential ally in these woods who wasn't actively trying to kill me.
Somewhere in the darkness ahead, a twig snapped. I froze, my heart hammering against my ribs as I strained to see through the shadows.
"Alexander?" I whispered, hope and dread tangled in my chest. "Is that you?"
No answer came, only the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps drawing nearer.
And then him, materializing from behind a tree.
I stood there, staring at him as if we had all the time in the world.
Like they did in those romantic action movies when the main leads would have a moment while chaos erupted around them.
I hated when that happened because it seemed so silly, but if one looked at us now, we weren’t any different.
Only, his stare wasn’t adoring but cautious. Mistrustful.
“You know I didn’t do this,” I blurted out, unsure why. “You heard her.” He nodded, then I added, “They dragged me out of the room, told me to run.”
He nodded again, but said nothing. It drove me insane.
“Say something!” I whisper-shouted. “What are we going to do?”
He stumbled and I gasped. Some blood stained his shirt where I stabbed him, and he seemed a little out of it. Just when I was about to ask if he was okay, he said, “There’s a place. Not exactly a refuge, but I need some time to think.”
“Fine.” I stepped closer to him. He reached out and took my hand, surprising me.
“Come on. Once there, we’ll figure out what to do next.”
Beatrice O'Brien
The night air caressed my skin through the open window of the hunting blind as I adjusted my night-vision goggles.
The forest stretched before me like a verdant kingdom—my kingdom.
Below, my hunters moved in precise formation, their shadows gliding between ancient oaks with practiced efficiency. Satisfaction coursed through my veins.
Through my earpiece, I heard their synchronized breathing, occasional whispers as they tightened the noose around the groundskeeper's cottage. The rustic structure stood in a small clearing, its windows glowing with weak lamplight—a beacon drawing my prey together exactly as I planned.
"Team Alpha in position," a voice murmured in my ear.
"Team Bravo, southeast perimeter secured," came another.
My fingers caressed the control panel at my side.
With a single touch, I activated the surveillance system I'd had installed weeks ago—long before Patrick realised I was no longer taking my medication, before he understood I was capable of orchestrating something of this magnitude.
The monitors flickered to life, offering multiple angles of the cottage interior.
And there they were—the two people who consumed my thoughts.
Alexander Moore and Aoife O'Malley, enemies forced into alliance by my design, huddled together in desperate consultation.
The sight of them ignited something vicious inside me.
The auburn-haired bitch leaned close to Alexander, her hand on his arm, her lips moving rapidly as she explained something.
His face, normally so controlled, betrayed tension in the tightness around his eyes.
"Look at them," I whispered to myself, "searching for options that don't exist."
I left them only one path forward, and soon they would realize it.
The cottage was surrounded, the estate sealed.
Sunrise was six hours away. When morning came, Ronan Moore would sign everything over to me to save his beloved brother and stop a turf war, not realizing Alexander would already be dead.
The O'Malleys would lose their powerful allies, and Patrick would finally understand the wife he thought he'd broken was now his master.
I pressed another button, activating the hidden speakers throughout the cottage.
"My darlings," I purred, watching their heads snap up. "I do hope you're enjoying your little shelter. So cozy, so ... intimate."