Page 70 of Hunted

“Please, Sir,” I tried again. “What did you just say? I must be mistaken.”

The tension radiated off of Ethan’s body from a foot away—though whether he was readying to spring to my defence or leap away to protect his own skin was anyone’s guess. I was digging my own grave here, with toothpicks in lieu of a shovel.

Varco’s finger tapped the sheet atop his podium. His eyes were cold, but his lips… they were giddy at the prospect of repeating my fate. Of driving it home, again, in front of everyone.

“Adelaide Sinclair,” he said, voice lethally soft. “Swallow.”

And there it was: the final nail in my coffin.

Better get to digging, Addie.

“There must be some mistake. I’m the best shot of our year.”

Eth’s eyes pierced my right cheek, and I felt another three sets further off to the right burrowing in as well. Imploring me to stop driving those toothpicks further into the metaphorical dirt.

But I was done for already. And I’d rather keep digging than surrender to that fate.

“Apparently not,” Varco returned, each syllable like an icicle to my gut.

My mind whirled, but I knew in my bones I was right.

“Unlike every other recruit beside you, you failed to complete one of your final assessments.”

My brow furrowed. There’s no way—I aced all of them!

“Did you not leave the field during the Devil’s Pass assessment, foregoing the final target?” He raised a bushy brow in that way someone does when they already know the answer to the question they’d just asked.

I was jittery—my fingers tapping relentlessly against my thighs as I realised…

…he was right.

My gaze shot to Pearce. Like a true coward, he avoided my eyes. The edges of my vision faded to red when I put words to what, exactly, he’d done: fucked me then fucked me over.

That chauvinistic, pig-headed, spineless⁠—

A hand clamping tightly around my wrist gave me pause. Teeth clenched, I looked down, startled to discover I’d taken a full step out of line, well on my way to carving my vengeance from Pearce’s skin.

Ethan’s warm, firm grip tugged me backwards, then loosened. His fingers slid down my skin, only far enough to thread through my own, grounding me as Varco continued, oblivious.

“Even if you’d managed to hit the bullseye in one shot, Miss Sinclair, you lost points during the compound assessment anyway. In combination, these deductions slid you down the ranks of your comrades, landing you at the top of the Swallow list.” His teeth flashed in a vicious grin. “I look forward to witnessing you in action.”

It was an oil-laced threat.

He’d either witness me first-hand or would relish in hunting me down if I fled.

I almost laughed. The choice before me was simple: split or Swallow.

The ground felt more solid beneath my feet as I came to terms with it, with selling my soul, my body, for the sake of staying alive. Maybe I’d take Eth up on his offer—at least that way I’d still have some autonomy over the loss of choice, loss of security, and loss of maidenhood. At least then it wouldn’t be forcibly snatched by someone Varco handpicked.

I looked up at his profile. He was tall, handsome, someone I trusted with my life. Could I trust him with this, too?

“Ethan Taylor,” Varco barked, finally continuing.

Eth went rigid as he waited—no doubt expecting Raven, the male counterpart to my Swallow.

But when Varco said, “Eagle,” his eyes went wide as saucers, blinked once, and turned to pin me with silent apologies.

But each pin sank a little deeper than the last, and I realised that no—no I couldn’t trust him with that, too.