Page 1 of Hunted

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OLIVIER

This time the letter wasn’t left in the office in the South Wing. No, it was left on the counter in the library, in my usual spot, between my pens and pencils, my worn-out books, and wads of paper used for notes I no longer needed but was too lazy to actually throw away.

Like some uninvited guest at a party, all neat and adorned with a bronze-coloured silk lint that kept the rolled piece of paper in perfect shape. Waiting to be unraveled, the paper waiting to be uncurled, the letters waiting to be read.

I remember just standing there for a minute, admiring the curly writing, identical to the first time, yet different somehow. Not the same hand, of that I was sure. The words though, they were a carbon-copy of the promise I’d already experienced before. A night in the woods.

My heart thumped wildly in my chest, revealing my trepidation.

I had been chosen again? Why?

I hadn’t learned a lot from the Wicked Chase and its true intentions, aside from the cruel game and the hunt. Yes, I had learned the rules. The elimination. But I didn’t know who the other participants were, who had won. I didn’t even know who the others were, who had won, nor did I know the identity of the masked guys who hunted us down.

Except for one.

I didn’t know his name, but Golden Mask was one of the elite, that much was certain. He walked around school like he owned the place and made more trouble than anyone else. He was loud, abhorrent and annoying. Perhaps that was one the reasons why I’d sometimes steal glances toward the middle of the canteen, and wonder.

I wondered if I’d been part of the elite, had my father not left us. How would it feel to be feared and admired? To sit my ass down in the heart of our small community every single day? To know that other students feared me, just because my parents had a bigger fortune or more power in their self-proclaimed democracy?

They at least had enough power to create this hellscape in the woods. To form a fraternity of some kind. Rumours were a bitch, a twist of reality, a creation of doubt. And there were stories. Of secret parties and witchcraft, here, within the walls of Monterrey Castle. Which was ridiculous, because I’d been here for a full school year now and I’d never seen such activity around me.

However… it left me wondering. As I took in those similar words of loyalty, respect, tradition and sacrifice, I couldn’t help the delicious tremor to flood my veins.The thought of bronze and sinfulness. The cruel hint of a smile. Inky-black eyes behind a gorgeous Venetian mask.

I shook it off with a scoff. Of course my brain told me I shouldn’t go, that it was a classic case of a “no-no”, but my heart…I couldn’t help myself from all the questions that ghosted in my mind.

Was Bronze Mask the one who had been in the library before? If so, did he and I know each other? Was he the one who’d left me the invite? Did he want me to participate once more, despite the original rules?

Was there a message I failed to notice?

That was it. Two weeks later I was once more lined up with three other participants, followed by the hunt of a lifetime. Only this time, when Bronze Mask attacked me with his sling and balls until I fell to the ground, grunting from the pain, he got careless.

“Are you alright?” He had asked, sounding genuinely worried.

It was the only thing he had said the entire night, before his proverbial mask slipped back into place once I had nodded and confirmed that I was fine. And with his voice in my mind I’d let him corner me before he chased me back to the beginning of the game, back to where the older man and his cane were waiting, back to where I got transported back to the castle. Back to where my driver was waiting to take me home for the holidays.

His voice stayed in my mind.

And barely a week later, in the library, I heard that voice once more. Husky, god, he sounded so husky. And low. A drawl, despite the joke he was making. It was a rainy afternoon, and with sports practice being cancelled, the place was more crowded than usual. Tables were taken, and I was solicited all the time by students, asking me to look up books or give them general information on content. This was the only place where I felt others treated me without their usual, newfound hostility.

First I caught sight of Gold Tooth, whose name I still didn’t know. He swaggered inside the opulent space, accompanied by a group of three of his friends. I gave them a quick glance, then dipped my gaze immediately, not wanting to look for any trouble. It’s an unwritten rule here at Saint-Laurent to stick by the people in your own league. Don’t go below, and certainly don’t go over.

“Salut, Monsieur Vincent.” Gold Tooth greeted the chief of the library, the ancient Monsieur Vincent. I could feel his eyes on me though. I felt myself shrink back into my seat, eyes casted down. They made me feel uncomfortable. Next to me, the conversation audibly continued, the shaky, high-pitched voice of Monsieur Vincent giving instructions on where to find the books these elite boys were apparently looking for. I kept on typing on my computer, searching for nothing in particular, but needing to look busy. Until…

“Olivier?” Monsieur Vincent asked. Sweeping my head in his direction, I stared at his iron-framed glasses and watery blue eyes, his skin parchment and his fine lips tightly pressed together. Disapproving. I must have missed the first part of that phrase.

“Uhm, oui?” I asked sheepishly, ignoring that husky chuckle coming from right in front of me. Fuck, they were still standing there. And he…Bronze Mask, the guy who was still staring at me, dark eyes speared into mine as if he was attempting to sneak inside my brain. Probably to understand why I had participated at the games in the first place.

He was nothing like Theo. There was no softness in his gaze, no chubby, friendly cheeks, no sympathetic smile of sorts. No, this guy wore his face with cold perfection. A jaw that could cut glass, a long straight nose that poured down into a set of full, plush lips. A dimple in his chin. My gaze flicked back up and my face flushed with embarrassment. I’d been checking him out and from the looks of it, he had seen. I cleared my throat, then quickly stood up, almost sending all the papers on my desk flying, but not before I’d stolen another glance at those eyes. Large and dark, still piercing with that intensive gaze.

Do you believe in love at first sight?

I don’t remember much of the events after that. All I know is that Monsieur Vincent had me do the walk of shame through the entire library in search of a book that turned out to be absent from where it should be, despite the computer notification, with all four guys hot on my tail. I never exchanged a word with them, and after they left and I returned to my desk, the invitation was waiting for me in plain sight.

Bronze Mask wanted me back in the Wicked Chase. But when I stood across from that same guy a few weeks later in his full glory, right before Pentecote Break, he didn’t mention our encounter in the library.

That night I lasted a little less than an hour. Although I didn’t follow the trail but stayed in the shadows instead, I felt on edge. My mind was weaving with thoughts and memories, with “what if’s” of all sorts. And then… something snapped inside of me and I couldn’t take it anymore. I was anxious. Afraid of what would happen if he caught me. Afraid of what would happen if he didn’t. I never was much of a group person, never felt like I fit in. And that’s always been okay. Because my father might have left a closet of broken dreams and a ghost in the shape of my little sister when he left, taking her, but we belonged. Mom and I, and Theo.

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