Page 2 of The Deceived

I, Winter Jensen, became a lady of the night.

I laugh to myself, though nothing about it is funny. It only serves to make me despise the man responsible for my predicament even more. But as twisted as this place may be, they took me in. They put a roof over my head, food in my belly, and gave me a way to get back on my own two feet.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. I stand, staring, unblinking, holding my breath.

This is it. It’s happening.

Except that I don’t move. My body is rooted in place. I inhale a breath, stealing my nerves as a second knock sounds.

Pull yourself together. You’ll survive this, too.This is a cakewalk compared to the past decade.

I steel my nerves as I make my way to the door. Chin high, blood-red lips, kohl-lined eyes, and a trail of snow-colored hair. I am a fucking force, a storm of fury, an impenetrable fortress. I will own this Hunt just like every other obstacle that has been set before me.

Ifhecouldn’t fully destroy me, nothing but death itself can bring me down. I shake off those bitter memories and thoughts of the man that destroyed my life as I reach for the knob and twist it.

“Miss Jensen, we are ready for you.” The Manor employee raises his hand for mine, and when I accept it, he pulls me from the suite.

I nod once and step through the doorway, pulling it shut behind me. I follow him as my bare feet glide against the shiny, cold stone beneath them. The long, expansive corridor is empty except for us. Not a sound can be heard of the debauchery that is surely taking place a few floors away.

This mansion, Hale Manor, is a palace. I’ve been to many fine places in my youth, but I have never been anywhere that contains such wealth and opulence. It drips from every nook and cranny.

When we reach the elevator, I step in, and the attendant follows. I keep my chin high as he reaches for the button on the panel that will carry me down to my fate. I will myself to be strong as I stare at my reflection in the gleaming steel doors.

I am a force. I am unbreakable.

The elevator doors open, and I follow him out. We walk in silence as we make our way to the wall of doors. My escort stops at the exit to the gardens and turns to me. I realize not for the first time since I left my suite that I’m holding my breath.

“You may begin whenever you are ready, miss. The gentlemen are awaiting your entrance. As soon as you walk through that door, the Hunt begins.”

He bows slightly in my direction, then turns and stands with his back against the wall, opposite the door as he waits for me to exit.

I peer through the clear glass door and take in the flat expanse of lawn before me. I inhale a deep breath as I push open the door and the wind immediately blows through my hair. I close my eyes for a moment and my nerves fire through my body, causing a tremble. I drape the length of this ridiculous skirt over my arm, and I run.

The night air chills my flesh as I sprint across the cold grass, my bare feet and shuddering breath the only sound around. Yard after yard, I fly into the night as I scan my surroundings. There’s not a soul in sight. It’s just me, the cold, the looming forest in the distance, and the massive moon hanging overhead. I push harder to get to the cover of the forest.

The farther I run from the Manor, the darker it grows. The lamp lights and up lights are beginning to be spaced farther apart until eventually there are no more lights. Just me, the eastern Tennessee forest, the bright moon, and this very primal sense of survival.

I can see why these rich assholes get off on the Hunt. They get to live out a fantasy. That’s what the Manor caters to—fantasies. Almost nothing is too deprived or off the table here.

Chasing a woman through the woods to capture her and have your way with her? Sure. Why not? What man doesn’t want to live out his caveman fantasy? I’d hate to see what they pay for this privilege, though. But, when you’re that wealthy, money is no object. No wish is too big or off-the-wall extravagant.

I make it to the forest and duck behind a copse of trees. I take a moment to catch my breath and listen to what surrounds me. The crack of a twig echoes, and at once, I dart my head to the left toward the direct of the sound.

“Fuck, Vinnie, you dumbass. Anyone on this Hunt heard that. Watch where you step.” The harsh whispers carry on the breeze, and I try not to laugh because he’s right. It is obvious that Vinnie has never been on an actual hunt, of any kind, in his life.

I think back to when I was younger and I would go fox hunting with my father. I’m assaulted with a memory of a flurry of fox hunters atop graceful steeds, sweeping across rolling green hills with mountains as our backdrop. Riders were clad in top hats, riding britches, and tweed coats. I loved the gear the most. It made me feel like such a grown-up back then.

Atop the horses, I felt like a warrior as we chased the speckled hounds who twirled and scampered, circling about in a frenzy with their pink tongues hanging from their mouths. They barked up a storm. Leading the charge as the huntsman, my father would blow the horn, the blast echoing through the lush valleys.

It felt like I was traveling back in time.

My father did, however, teach me actual hunting skills. Sometimes we’d take walks into the forest that surrounded our estate and track deer. I’ll never forget the time he made me pick up deer poop barehanded to check its freshness. It was disgusting. I smile a little at the memory; I miss him so much. He taught me how to track and be as stealthy as possible, so for these Hunters, I won’t be easy Prey.

I stay still and watch while the two blabbermouths continue to argue as they pass me by, hoping this bright-white dress doesn’t glow under the light of the moon and draw their attention. Luckily, they are too busy bickering and clearly lack any true hunting skills since they continue past my hiding spot.

Once they are out of earshot, I take a second to listen to my surroundings. Only the hoot of an owl pierces the night. I scan the forest once more before I stand, lift the skirt of this dress into my arms, and run. I take off as fast as my bare feet and in this cumbersome dress allow, dashing deeper into the forest. No other sounds greet me besides the minute amount of noise I am making as I dodge branches overhead and tree roots beneath my feet.

I make my way out of the forest, and as I crest the top of the small hill, I see a creek, making a harsh gash in the landscape, as it meanders through the property. As I descend the grassy slope, the sound of moving water fills my ears. I am careful to watch my step as field stones peek out from the surface.

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