Chapter 4 The Host #4
Pale. Trembling. Standing between his husbands like a man awaiting trial.
Her smile turned vicious.
And just like that, every person in the room knew, without a word spoken, why they were here.
“Zane, darling,” she called out, her voice syrupy and sharp. “What a surprise to see you here. I thought you’d be too ashamed to show your face after that interview—”
“Ms. Scott,” Thomas interrupted smoothly, offering his arm as though she were a guest of honor instead of prey. “I was just in the middle of explaining the evening's activities. I’m afraid we’re on a rather strict time schedule.”
Beverly allowed herself to be guided toward the center of the ballroom, chin high, shoulders squared.
She clearly believed she had the upper hand, that she’d been invited here to be adored, or at least feared.
That she was going to embarrass her son in front of all these people. That she was untouchable.
Thomas almost pitied her. Almost.
“Tonight,” he announced, his voice rolling through the silent room like thunder wrapped in velvet, “we’re playing a game. A hunt, as I mentioned.” He turned to Beverly, his expression perfectly serene.
“A hunt? At night? Like a fox hunt?” she asked, her confusion edged with disdain.
“More like a snake hunt,” Asa said, his voice cold enough to crack glass.
“Who hunts snakes?” Beverly sneered, curling her lip as she looked around the room.
“We do,” Noah said evenly, realization settling into his tone. “In fact, it’s sort of our expertise.”
“Odd,” she said, blinking rapidly, her forced smile beginning to falter. “And where is this snake?”
“Why, it’s right here.” Thomas’s smile widened. “It’s you, Ms. Scott. You are our snake.”
Beverly laughed, too loud, too brittle. “Excuse me?”
“The rules are simple,” Thomas said, raising a hand and ticking each off on his fingers.
“You’ll have a ten-minute head start. The property is fully secured, you can’t leave, so don’t bother trying.
There are weapons hidden throughout the house and grounds, which you’re welcome to use in your defense…
if you’re able.” He tilted his head slightly, the gesture both polite and chilling.
“If you survive until dawn, you walk free. If not…”
He shrugged.
Beverly laughed again, higher, shriller. “This joke isn’t funny. You sound insane.”
“We are insane,” Asa said, stepping closer, eyes like ice. “And you’re on the clock.”
“This is absurd! I am not amused,” Beverly snapped. When no one laughed, she took a half step back. “You can’t be serious. I’m leaving.”
“We’re always serious,” Avi said, voice lazy, a smile playing on his lips. “Well, until we’re not. But we’re always serious about killing.”
“And you’re most definitely not leaving,” Asa added. “Well, not of your own volition anyway.”
“Ms. Scott.” Thomas’s tone cut through the growing murmurs like a blade. The room went utterly still. He studied her face, the twitch of her mouth, the shallow rise of her chest. She was sweating now. Her foundation was starting to crack, mascara bleeding faintly beneath her eyes.
“You’ve spent decades tormenting your son,” he said, voice low, each word deliberate.
“Using his brother’s death as a weapon. Destroying his self-worth piece by piece.
And weeks ago, you ambushed him on national television with lies designed to humiliate him.
” His smile vanished. “That was your mistake…your fatal mistake, as it turns out.”
Beverly looked around the room, finally realizing no one was laughing. No one was moving. Dozens of eyes followed her every twitch, gleaming with a single, shared hunger.
“This is illegal!” she shrieked, voice breaking. “You can’t just—”
“We can,” Noah said calmly. “And we are.” He turned to Thomas. “What was it you said, Dad?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Right. Ten minutes, Ms. Scott.” Noah’s tone was conversational, his grin sharp. “I suggest you start running.”
Beverly stumbled backward, her skin draining of color. “Zane! Zane, you can’t let them do this!”
Zane stepped forward. Felix and the twins moved with him, a wall of quiet fury. When he spoke, his voice didn’t shake. It was calm, even. Steady.
“You told me I was dead to you. That you wished I’d died instead of your precious Gage. You said I was a disappointment. A pervert. Your biggest embarrassment.” Zane’s hands were shaking, but he didn’t look away. “You’ve said worse. Done worse. For my entire life.”
“I’m your mother—”
“You’re a virus,” Zane cut in, his voice steady now, iron threaded through every syllable. Thomas heard Felix’s words echoed there, cold, deliberate, cleansing, like he’d leant Zane some of his strength to get through this or channeled him somehow. “And I’m done letting you poison me.”
Beverly’s face twisted with rage. “You ungrateful little—”
“Ten minutes starts now,” Thomas said calmly, pressing a button on his phone.
A timer flickered to life on the wall behind him, projected large enough for the whole room to see. It began to count down from 10:00 in red digital numbers that glowed like embers.
Beverly looked at the timer. Then at the room full of predators, who seemed to swell towards her as one, like a wave ready to drag her under. Then at her son, who was finally standing up to her.
And then she ran.
Slow at first, like disbelief was still dragging at her heels, then faster, panic taking over as her stilettos slipped against marble. Her shoes clicked wildly as she made for the front doors, tugging the handles in vain. The locks didn’t budge.
Every eye followed her as she spun toward the windows, trying to shatter them, then the side doors, anything that might offer escape. When nothing gave, she bolted for the hallway.
The moment she vanished, the ballroom erupted into controlled chaos.
Elite security agents rolled out carts of weapons and tactical gear, the metallic clang of hardware mixing with rising chatter. Hunters grabbed knives, tranquilizers, earpieces, masks. It was the sound of organization gone rabid.
The war room crew peeled off toward their stations. Children stayed sealed in their wing, blissfully unaware that bedtime stories had turned into bloodsport downstairs.
Thomas turned back to the crowd, voice amplified by the mic.
“You can hunt in teams or solo,” he said, calm and commanding.
“Everyone, run a comms check. Those hunting, there are few rules, but there are some. Make it last. Make it hurt. She’s earned it.
And most importantly, subdue, but don’t kill.
We have something special waiting for her at midnight.
Until then…” He spread his hands, benevolent as any god. “Do what you will.”
His gaze swept over his family—his army—his monsters. “Those in support roles, coordinate from the war room. We have eyes everywhere.”
He turned to Zane, who stood frozen amid the chaos, a strange calm settling over him. His pupils were huge, his breathing shallow. Shock. Or maybe relief.
“This is for you,” Thomas said quietly, low enough only Zane could hear. “All of it.”
Zane swallowed hard, nodding. “Thank you.”
Avi’s voice broke the silence. “Are you participating or watching from the war room, Lois?”
Zane hesitated. “I’m gonna sit this one out, I think. T-til the end, anyway.”
“What about you, kitten? You fighting or fleeing with Zaney?” Avi asked.
Felix squeezed Zane’s hand. “I go where Zaney goes,” he said softly. “You two be careful.”
“You think one frail old lady stands a chance against thirty trained killers?” Asa asked, smirking.
“Don’t underestimate that bitch,” Zane spat. “She’s survived this long.”
“That ends tonight,” Thomas said.
They all turned toward the glowing red clock, bodies going still as the countdown neared zero. The only sound was the rhythmic tick of numbers fading one by one.
0:09.
0:08.
0:07.
0:06.
0:05.
0:04.
0:03.
0:02.
0:01.
A sharp siren split the air, echoing through the mansion.
Thomas raised the mic one final time, his smile serene, his voice the calm before violence.
“Let the hunt begin.”
And with that, the house came alive, doors unlocking, lights dimming, the night itself shifting to accommodate the blood that was about to be spilled.