Page 157 of The Hunt

This time, I was their prisoner.

The low murmur of voices reached me, and I turned my head just enough to see the shadows shifting nearby, their forms outlined by the faint glow of the moon. The Patriarchs. They stood in a loose circle, cloaked in dark suits and self-assured authority, their voices clipped as they argued.

“I still think this is ridiculous,” one man was saying. “Can’t you see? It’s over. We should be leaving.”

“Exactly,” another man said. “I have connections down in South America. If we’re careful, we can all get away—”

“Shut up!” another man roared. I recognized the voice instantly. It was Peter Jennings. “We can deal with the fallout later. Right now, it’s absolutelyimperativethat we destroy Rhett Sinclair! He’s the reason everything is ruined!”

My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat as I realized why I was tied to this stake. They were using me as bait to lure Rhett.

As soon as he arrived and tried to untie me, the Patriarchs would burst out of the shadows, and then it would be eight men against one. Granted, they were older and less agile than Rhett, but they’d all been elite hunters in their prime, so his chance of survival was slim.

I tugged weakly against the ropes, but they didn’t budge, only cutting deeper into my skin.Shit.

“I won’t let you lay a hand on my son,” the first man said. “This isn’t his fault.”

“You’re right, Richard,” Peter snapped. “It’s not really his fault. It’syours. You’re the fucking idiot who let him take your phone and leak all that information to the press, aren’t you?”

“He wouldn’t have evenknownthere was anything to leak if you’d kept your mouth shut to your son,” Richard shot back. “That’s obviously why Rhett killed him. JJ must’ve told him the truth, and he wasn’t supposed to know any of it at his level. Neither of them were supposed to know!”

“You know what, Richard? I completely agree with you on one point you just made,” Peter said, his voice dangerously low. “Your son killed my son.”

“Peter,” another Patriarch cut in, lifting a hand. “I understand your anger, but this isn’t going to help matters. We should be making our way to a non-extradition country before it’s too late.”

Peter clocked the man right in the jaw, sending him reeling backward. “In case you’ve forgotten,Iam the leader here, and I amnotgoing to let that fucking bastard go free while my son lies dead in the fucking dirt!” he shouted. “You’re all going to help me if it’s the last fucking thing you ever do!”

As he shouted, two of the other Patriarchs rushed to the aid of the one he’d punched.

Peter furiously whirled around to look at Richard again. “Your son will pay for breaking the code,” he spat out. “And thisis how we make it happen—with that stupid girl. He’ll find us out here eventually, and we’ll be ready for him. We were all hunters once.”

“Rhett didn’t break the code,” Richard said coldly. “He didn’t even know about it. He only knew what he was taught, and you know perfectly well that every Wilder learns a very different code to the eight of us.”

Peter lifted a fist again, shaking it in Richard’s face. “What part of ‘your son killed my son’do you not fucking understand?”

“I understand it perfectly. But I will not allow you to kill Rhett,” Richard replied. “It’s not his fault the society is ruined now. It’s your fault, and you know it.”

Peter took a step backward, face twisting into a cold sneer. “We all know you haven’t been able to pull a trigger since you mangled your hand in that car accident. And you were never particularly talented with knives. So how exactly do you plan tostop me from killing Rhett?” he asked, tilting his head. “That’s right. You can’t. You’ll never—”

Peter’s words were abruptly cut off by the sharp crack of a gunshot. He staggered backward, clutching his shoulder as blood bloomed through his tailored jacket. His face contorted in pain, and he dropped to one knee, groaning.

“What the—”

One of the Patriarchs shouted, but before he could finish, another two shots rang out, one slamming into Peter’s leg, the other into his gut. He screamed in agony as his body crumpled to the ground, his hands scrabbling at the dirt beneath him.

From the shadows, more shots fired in rapid succession. One by one, the other Patriarchs fell, each shot clean and precise, a single bullet to the head. Their bodies dropped like marionettes with their strings cut, collapsing onto the forest floor with dull thuds.

The clearing was silent for a moment, save for the echo of the last gunshot fading into the night. All but two of the Patriarchs were motionless now, lifeless forms sprawled in the moonlight. Peter was still groaning in agony, clutching at his gut, and Richard remained standing, frozen in place, his wide eyes darting around the darkened forest.

“You’re already here,” he finally said in a low voice. “I should’ve known how quick you’d be.”

A figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the clearing. “Yeah, you really should’ve seen it coming,” Rhett said. “You’re the one who trained me.”

His face looked like it was carved from granite, his gun still raised, barrel aimed at his father’s face. His stormy gaze flicked to me, tied and helpless against the pole, before locking onto Peter, who was writhing in the dirt.

“You were saying something about someone pulling a trigger, Peter?” Rhett said, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

He took another step forward, the faint glow of the moon catching the blood spattered across his hands.

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