Page 52 of The Blood Moon Hunt

A tendril of darkness shoots past me, slithering toward Selene. I hurl a bolt of magic in its path, obliterating it before it can reach her. She flinches, her eyes locking with mine for a brief moment, and I can see the panic rising in her.

“Dammit, Selene!” I shout again, frustration and fear warring inside me. “Run!”

But before she can respond, a massive shadow rears up behind her, its black, shapeless form towering over her like a specter of death. My heart skips a beat.

“Selene, move!”

Finally, she snaps into action, stumbling backward just as the shadow lunges where she’d been standing. The creature’s claws swipe through empty air, missing her by inches, and I feel a momentary surge of relief—until I realize she’s running.

Not toward us.

Away.

I barely have time to process it. The battle rages on, the shadows still pressing in, but through the chaos, I catch a glimpse of Selene retreating deeper into the forest. She’s fast, her form a blur as she disappears into the shadows, her power pulsing like a beacon, drawing every dark creature toward her.

“No!” I snarl, panic flooding my veins.

I want to go after her, to pull her back, but the shadows swarm, blocking my path, forcing me to stay and fight. I lash out with a burst of energy, tearing through the darkness, but it’s not enough. I can’t reach her.

“She’s gone,” Ronan growls beside me, his voice dark with amusement. “Told you you were losing her.”

His words are like knives, sharp and biting, but I don’t have time to respond. The shadows are still pressing in, and every second we’re distracted, they get closer to overwhelming us.

“Focus, Damien,” Ronan snaps, as he fends off another wave of shadows with a vicious blast of power. “If you’re too weak to handle this, leave it to me.”

I grit my teeth, rage boiling beneath my skin, but I don’t take the bait. Selene is gone, and now all I can do is hope she makes it out alive.

The shadows retreat, slinking back into the darkness, leaving us panting and bloodied in their wake. But the damage is done. Selene is out there, alone, and she has no idea what’s hunting her.

“Great job, Damien,” Ronan says, clapping me on the shoulder with a mocking grin. “Really stellar work.”

“Shut up,” I growl, pushing past him.

But I know he’s right. I’ve failed. Again.

As the shadows recede, I turn my gaze toward the forest, my mind racing. I have to find her. But this time, I’m not chasing her as the facilitator of the Hunt. I’m chasing her as a man who has no intention of letting her go.

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

SELENE

The forest is endless, a labyrinth of trees that seem to close in on me with every step. The shadows are still behind me, slithering along the forest floor, relentless in their pursuit. I push myself harder, my lungs burning, my legs aching, but I can’t stop—not now. I can feel my magic bubbling just beneath the surface, but every time I try to summon it, it slips away, leaving me vulnerable.

My breath comes in sharp gasps as I fend off another wave of shadows, sending a pulse of energy toward them. It’s weak, barely enough to keep them at bay, but it gives me a moment to catch my breath. The cold air bites at my skin, and I shiver, more from fearthan the chill. The shadows linger at the edges of my vision, waiting for me to falter.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up.

Just when I think I can’t go any further, I break through the trees and stumble into a clearing. Relief floods through me as I spot a massive stone altar in the center of the space. The shadows that have been chasing me hesitate, retreating to the edge of the clearing as if something is holding them back.

The air here feels... different. Sacred, almost. I approach the altar cautiously, my steps slow and deliberate. The stone is ancient, weathered by time, and covered in markings I don’t recognize. As I reach out to touch it, a strange hum vibrates beneath my fingers, sending a jolt of energy through my body.

The markings—symbols and runes—are intricate, swirling together in a pattern that almost seems to come alive under my touch. There are carvings, too, images of four figures intertwined with lines of power, their forms shadowy but distinct. Something about it stirs something deep within me, though I can’t quite understand it yet. It’s like this place holds a key to something I’ve been searching for my entire life.

But just as I start to feel a sense of safety, a rustling in the trees pulls my attention away from the altar. I whip around, my heart pounding in my chest. Several figures step out from the shadows—lesserwarlocks. Their eyes are wild, feral, and they’re looking at me like I’m the last prey left in the Hunt.

I instinctively reach for my magic, but it sputters weakly, barely a flicker of what it should be. There are too many of them, and I’m too drained. My stomach twists as they close in, encircling me.

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