Page 2 of Hunted

It made me once more wonder why I’d decided to sign that NDA in the first place. What had I wanted to achieve?

And why was I there again tonight? I told myself it was become of the change of rules in tonight’s Chase. A chance to choose—last for two hours in the woods and go home with a bag of money. Or become a brother.

Eitherway, it’s a chance to change your life. To obtain everything you wish for. That’s what the older man with the cane told us before. He had been the one always instructing us. The one telling us that we signed an NDA and therefore gave away our permission to be treated as it pleased the others.

Brothers, he called them. Hungry brothers. A shiver runs through my body at the words of choice, at the memory of blond hair and dark, inquisitive eyes. Hungry brothers.

I wondered if there really would be a pot of gold waiting for me at the other side of the rainbow. Regardless, it was worth a shot.

“O-li-vier…” someone singsongs from somewhere behind me, and I flinch at the sound, instantly brought back to the present, at the recognition of that voice.

“Salut, Monsieur Vincent.” The way he’d greeted the ancient librarian. That voice.

Gold Tooth. Or should I say, Golden Mask. My head swivels around as I stare into the inky-black air, unsure of where the sound exactly came from. The rustle of a leaf, the unfamiliar sound of an animal. I shiver, then indecisively look around in an attempt to hide but unsure where to go. The entire forest looks ominous in its obscurity, despite the gentle, pleasant breeze. It feels like it has been used to distract me fromhis turn real danger, appearing mercilessly.

More rippling sounds, followed by his taunt. “Where are you going, baby boy? You know he’ll come for you, right?”

Why do you keep on finding me? I want to snarl. Don’t you have your own victim to haunt?

I take a few steps in a further attempt to hide, but hesitancy stops me in my tracks. Where do I go?

Left, right, east, west.

Tik tok. Tik tok.

A chuckle. “You know he’ll come chasing you down, slinging his balls into your back and causing you to stumble and fall.”

He will. I remember exactly how they hit me before, hurting me badly. It’s yet another reason why I shouldn’t have come here tonight. Although he did ask me if I was alright.

Pathetic. I inwardly snort at myself. One second was all it took. Apparently I am that superficial that the only reason I’m participating at the Wicked Chase is to hopefully get the attention of the handsome, blond man who took my breath away those weeks ago in the library.

Because Bronze Mask is the most handsome guy I’ve ever seen. My chest clenches with a misplaced feeling of guilt, though we both know that Theo has moved on since the last time I saw him back home. It has been over a year now, and he is spending his summer holidays in the US, which means I won’t see him the remainder of August once I get home.

If I get home.

“Stop being so dramatic, you fool,” I grumble inwardly at myself, but the thought makes my brain stutter.

Someone flashes by me on the trail and my feet stumble, unsure of where to go. That’s not Golden Mask. Speaking of that bastard…I turn over my shoulder and peer into the darkness.

Nothing.

“H-hello?” Comes a sound from the trail. It’s a participant. “I’m here!” He yells, voice sounding loud and uncontrolled. His large eyes stare my way, the upper part of his face blanketed by the same dark velvet as I am wearing—the masks they give us during every Chase. “Dad?” The participant holds a hand above his eyes as if shielding his sight from the sun, and I realize my feet must have taken me toward the trail, because we are slowly approaching each other. He’s staggering, swaying his hips as if he’s had too much to drink, and his eyes flutter wildly as if he needs to work hard to focus his gaze and actually see me.

“Not your Dad, sorry,” I reply sheepishly, half expecting him to laugh. He doesn’t, instead just blinks again.

“Then where is he?” He asks.

I shrug, then look around, as if I really expect some old man to make his magical appearance through the obsidian forest. My own dad, perhaps… “Sorry, dude.” I turn back to face him, and he stumbles, practically falling face flat on the trail. My hands shoot out. “Hey, are you okay?”

He shakes his head fervently. “Oui, oui. I am—I am just going to keep on walking then.” He staggers away, slowly placing one wobbly foot in front of the other, taking a right at the dead end of the trail. I follow him safely from a distance, worried about his welfare. A series of loud honks, followed by a howl of excitement and a squeal kills the tense silence violently, making me jump. My heart rate flies up, the organ rattling wildly in my chest. In front of me, the participant lets out a yelp and presses his hands against his ears.

“Stop that noise!” He shouts. “Whoever’s playing, stop it!”

He really is out of it, though the real question is, who drugged him? He turns his gaze to the dense forest on our right, then lets out an audible gasp. And then…he runs away, unusually fast for someone in his state, or perhaps whatever scares him was substantially frightening. That…my throat locks up and my stomach tightens in sudden anticipation. Fuck. I know it’s the latter even before I turn my face to the sight. Unless it’s some wild boar that freaked him the hell out?

It’s not.

It’s the horse.

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