twenty-nine -Brynn-
twenty-nine
-Brynn-
A few hours earlier
I’m running faster and faster. Pain flares up my leg with each footfall, but I don’t feel it anymore. I feel nothing but rage and the urge for revenge. I’m gonna kill every one of these bastards. But I know I don’t stand a chance against all of them together. I have to be smart about this.
I have to survive.
Behind me, the mansion's light fades between the trees, with every step I take forward, my heart urges me to return. To make sure he’s okay. But that would mean the death of us both. Running is the only chance we have. The only chance for me to end them; then return for him.
The round golden moon shines bright in the sky to serve as a guide through the forest. It's at its peak, at any second, I’m expecting a werewolf to crawl out of the trees.
I have less than nine minutes to disappear, to become a ghost with a thirst for revenge.
Still, the forest floor is treacherous at night.
Any wrong move could cause a serious injury.
Roots twist around my ankles, fallen branches snap beneath my boots, betraying my position to anyone listening.
But I don’t slow down. I can’t. Somewhere behind me, six hunters are tracking me through the night, their blades hungry for my blood.
A fallen tree blocks my path. I vault over it, but my injured leg buckles. The pain is immediate, shooting from ankle to hip. But I don’t say a word. I just bite back a scream and force myself upright. I have to be more careful.
East. The hunter’s cabin lies in the north section of the valley.
That’s what McAllister said. I have to cross the valley and win the sick game.
But the direct path is what they’ll expect.
They know this terrain. They’ve done this before.
And the thought that Elias died here freezes my lungs for a second right before hot rage surges through me.
He was hunted like this, running through the same woods, far more scared than I am now.
The thought makes me so sick, I feel like throwing up.
The more I think about it, the faster I run—not from the hunters but from the tears that are gathering in my eyes. I run so I don’t see them fall. So they don’t make me weak.
I run because they said I’m prey, but I will be the hunter.
A plan forms in my mind. And it’s not to run north toward safety. It’s west towards higher ground. I need to mislead them.
The moonlight reveals a rock formation ahead. I need to get a sense of the land, so I force myself up the slick surface, my fingernails tearing as I pull myself higher.
From the top, I can see the lay of the land. A stream is cutting through the valley, the one I used to hide my tracks from Ares before, a few clusters of trees, and behind me, flashes of light from the mansion scattering between the trees like fireflies.
My head start is over.
I slide down the far side of the rocks, creating a false trail before doubling back to a pine I took as my mark. Twenty feet up, I perch on a thick branch, controlling my breathing as the first shouts echo through the trees.
“Fan out!”
“She’s still injured. She can’t have gone far.”
I know they’re only shouting loud enough to try to scare me. But they're underestimating me. And that, will be their fatal mistake.
From my vantage point, I watch their lights disperse deeper into the woods. One veers in my direction, and I don’t run anymore. I just let him come to me.
I watch him advance through the trees, moving with too much confidence. The ego of someone who believes himself to be the predator rather than the prey. But I have a score to settle.
I’m calculating angles, timing, and opportunity. These men aren’t like those in Kharon. These men have done this before. Hunted before. The knife at my hip won’t be enough. I need leverage, surprise, momentum.
The hunter passes beneath my tree, pausing to examine something on the ground. My footprints, maybe, even if I tried to cover them. That’s what makes these men dangerous.
He’s directly below me now. And I’m prepared. I have a rope in one of my pockets, part of my essential outdoor gear, which I’ll use to trap him.
Without making a single sound, I create a sliding knot on one end before slowly lowering it towards him, waiting until his back is to it before dropping it around his torso and yanking hard. The rope snaps taut, pinning his arms to his sides as I launch myself from the branch.
The impact sends us both to the ground, but I’m ready for it, rolling to absorb the shock as we hit. He thrashes beneath me, struggling against the rope, but I’m already moving. My knees are at his shoulders, pinning him as my hands close around his head.
“You bitch—” he starts, but I silence him with a violent twist.
I told Ares I would have killed him here in the forest if he were human.
The crack of his neck breaking ripples through my palms and straight into my soul. His body goes limp beneath me while his eyes remain wide open with the shock at how quickly I made this happen.
Truth is, I wanted to take my time, to torture him, to ask him if he’s the one who hunted Elias, make this jerk remember him. Though, I don’t have time for questioning, so I’ll just have to kill them all.
I search his body quickly, finding a hunting knife much larger than my own, strapped to his thigh, along with a canteen of water. No gun. At least McAllister was honest about that.
I strap his knife to my leg, then start moving before the others realize this guy is missing, and it leads them my way.
I make my way toward the stream, but I’m not running now.
I’m just moving slowly, placing each foot to minimize the noise.
When I’m at the water's edge, I step in. My boots are wet anyway from playing with Ares earlier. I was planning to change them as soon as I got to the mansion, but I didn’t get the chance.
The water is even colder now, and I hold onto my jacket, hoping I don’t get hypothermia. I have a lighter on me, but I can’t start a fire to keep warm. Cold is better than dead, so I go upstream, the current washing away my trail.
Two hundred yards up, I exit on a flat rock, leaving no footprints. The hunters will check the stream. It’s the obvious escape route. But they’ll waste precious time until they find my tracks.
Another light flickers to my right. I freeze, pressing myself against a tree trunk as I become part of the shadow. The second hunter passes twenty feet away.
I don’t attack. Not yet. It’s too open here.
Too much risk of being spotted by the others.
I just watch him pass, memorizing every detail about him.
His build, the way he holds his weapon, the way he centers of weight is on his left leg.
Any of this might come in handy later when I choose my moment.
I’m moving north now, gathering things I can use as I advance, like a heavy rock that fits in my palm and a few sharp sticks.
The forest grows denser. The pines make room for old oaks and maples, while a dense canopy blocks much of the moonlight. I could have taken that guy’s lantern, but it would only have been dead weight. There’s no way I can use it without giving away my position.
Still, I use the darkness like a cloak, imagining myself at home, like it’s Ares’ darkness surrounding me until I’m one with it. I slide between shadows, placing each foot with the care of a wildcat. My breathing slows and deepens, and the initial panic of the chase subsides into a primal state.
The perfect hunter.
Some distant shouts echo through the trees. They found the guy I’d killed. Good. Now fear will find them one by one, slowly infiltrating their system whether they like it or not. Let them wonder what waits for them in the dark.
I continue north, making my way gradually toward the cabin that guarantees my survival, but that’s just a safety net now—my backup plan.
I don’t hurry. Rushing leads to mistakes, and mistakes lead to death.
I take my time to set simple traps like vines strung at ankle height between trees or small pits, disguised with fallen leaves, just enough to break a leg.
They’re not meant to kill. I don’t expect hunters this experienced to die so easily.
They're meant to slow them down, to make them cautious, to take away their confidence.
To remind them that I alone took on a god while their scared asses needed to tie him to a pillar.
Still, I know that’s not normal. Ares should have been able to break through that. There’s something wrong with him, but I can’t focus on that. I need to survive to get him out first. We’ll deal with everything else later.
I climb again, finding another tree. From up here, I can see more lights in the distance, coming my way. They’re tracking me, and they’re good at it. I’ve been careful, but there are still subtle signs that betray me.
I settle into position, taking a small sip of water first to calm my throbbing blood. Then I wait, gripping the heel of my knife.
My god calls me his little curse. Tonight I’ll show these men exactly how cursed they truly are.
Minutes have passed since their lanterns went out, but I didn’t hear any of them come my way, and I realize I can’t remain here and risk an ambush. I have to keep moving.
My gaze sweeps the terrain, and I see a steep ridge fifty yards away. The ground falls away abruptly on the other side. Potentially the perfect place to lay a trap.
I move quickly and gather a few vines, along with the rope I took back from the dead guy. I’m gonna make a tripwire.
I set my trap at ankle height across a narrow game trail leading up to the ridge. The vine blends with the undergrowth, nearly invisible in the moonlight. Then I prepare the bait. Me. I snap a branch on purpose, creating a loud sound. Then another. Setting a trail that a child could follow.