Page 47 of Mine To Hunt

The masked man stands up then, turning back to Ryan. He grabs him by the hair, yanking his head back with brutal force. Ryan's eyes go wide with pure, unfiltered terror, his swollen face contorted in pain and fear.

The masked man leans down, his mask inches from Ryan's ear, and whispers something, words I can't catch over the roaring in my head, but whatever it is makes Ryan's body go rigid, his one good eye bulging in horror.

Then, with a final, vicious motion, the masked man slams Ryan's face into the floor. The thud is wet and final, blood splattering across the wood as Ryan goes limp, his body still.

"No." I cry, but my word slur, the drug pulling me under fast.

He approaches me slowly, and I feel another prick in my arm. No, wait, that was before, but everything is blurring now, my eyelids too heavy to keep open.

"Please..." I mumble, collapsing sideways as the numbness spreads, dragging me into darkness.

~

When I open my eyes again, everything feels wrong.

My head throbs like it's been split open, pain pulsing behind my eyes as I try to focus. The air smells of rust and blood, metallic and thick, choking me.

A single weak bulb swings overhead, casting sickly, shifting light over the scene. Chains are bolted to the wall, rusted and heavy, and there's a drain in the center of the concrete floor, stained dark with something I don't want to think about.

Ryan is a few feet away from me. He's... ruined.

"Ryan?" My voice comes out as a broken whisper, fear choking me so tightly I can barely get the word out.

He doesn't answer. Doesn't even twitch. It feels like a dream. Too vivid, too nightmarish to be anything but my mind's twisted creation. I blink hard, tears spilling down my cheeks again, and the edges of the room blur, softening the horror just enough to make me doubt. I just want to sleep. Just want it all to stop, to wake up from this endless cycle of fear and pain.

The darkness tugs at me insistently, pulling me back under, and I don't fight it this time.

Chapter 14

Him

Sitting in the quiet of my flat, Mercy is coiled loosely around my forearm, her scales cool against my skin as her tongue flicks out to taste the air. I stroke her head slowly, the motion calming the restless itch under my ribs.

Boredom has settled in heavy today, a dull gray fog that makes everything feel flat and pointless. The usual routines. Cooking, cleaning, watching the news aren’t cutting through it. Nothing has since I last saw her.

“I’m going to see her again.” I say to Mercy, my voice low enough that it barely disturbs the stillness.

“My prey. She’s out there, probably thinking she’s safe. But I need to test something. I’m bored right now, but when I see her, I’m sure that high will come rushing back. That rush from just watching her last time. It was different. I want to know if it’s real, if only seeing her does it again, or if it was a one-time fluke. What do you think? Worth the drive?” Mercy’s head tilts slightly, as if she understands.

“Yeah, me too.” I smile at her, the corner of my mouth lifting.

“You get it, don’t you? The wait is starting to grate. I’m bored. But when I see her, I’m sure it’ll come back. That electric hum. That promise of something worth the chase. She makes me feel alive without me even having to touch her yet.”

I place Mercy back in her terrarium, secure the lid, and grab my keys. The drive to the area where her friend dropped her last time took more than an hour.

I park a block away, scanning the street for her. Not long. There she is, stepping out onto the cracked pavement, hailing a cab. My pulse ticks up, not the full high yet, but a spark.

I follow the cab, keeping distance, curiosity building as it heads to another flat in the same rundown neighborhood.

She steps out of the car, pays the driver, and disappears inside the house.

I wait. A few seconds pass. Then a minute. I park a little farther down the street and get out, choosing my position carefully. I lean against the streetlamp, casual to anyone who might glance my way, watching the flat like it might confess something if I stare long enough.

Voices drift out soon after. At first, they’re muffled. Indistinct. Then sharper.

A man’s voice cuts through the quiet. Tight, accusing, edged with anger. Hers follows. My jaw tightens. I move closer, staying in the shadows, until I can see through the window.

He’s towering over her.