Page 9 of Stalked

One night of terror. One night of surrender. And in exchange? A year of security. It was tradition.

But Toby had never once considered being part of it.

Growing up, he’d known the kind of people who ran. The ones who were desperate, out of options, backed into corners with no way out. They signed their names, took the money, and prayed they were fast enough.

Most weren’t.

Toby had always told himself he was different. Independent. That he could make it on his own. That he could scrape by without selling himself to a monster’s instincts. But tuition had drained his savings, despite the partial scholarship, and bills had piled up…

And then that email had landed in his inbox, like a noose pretending to be a lifeline.

The rules were simple. Run. Be caught. Be claimed.

The thought sent something cold slithering down his spine. He didn’t know who wanted to hunt him. He didn’t know if they’d be cruel, or kind—or if kindness even existed in something like this.

He hadn’t deleted the email. Instead, he’d called the law firm it mentioned, ready to hear that it was all a lie. But the person on the other end had confirmed it: the money was real, already set aside, legally binding.

And it was more than the normal amount.

Someone was running in this year's hunt, and they wanted him in it.

Even then, Toby hadn’t said yes immediately. He’d spent three days lying awake, staring at the cracks in his ceiling, wondering what kind of person put up that kind of cash for human bait. Wondering if he even cared about the answer.

Because the truth was, a small, secret part of him had always thought about something like this.

About being caught.

About being held down, controlled, wanted.

Toby exhaled sharply, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets, fingers curling into fists. He shouldn’t be thinking about that right now. Not with the cold seeping into his bones, not with the hunt about to begin.

But he couldn’t stop himself.

For as long as he could remember, he’d been careful. He had to be. A scholarship kid in a school full of wolves? The best thing he could do was keep his head down, avoid conflict, and never show weakness. He couldn’t afford to be seen as prey—not in any way that mattered.

So he kept that side of himself buried. The side that wanted to be handled. Overpowered. Desired.

The only outlet he had was behind a screen. Faceless, anonymous, a handful of strangers online who didn’t know him, who only saw the version of himself he carefully controlled. A few teasing photos. A few confessions whispered into the void.

But even then, he never gave too much away. Because in real life? In real life, people like him got eaten alive.

People like him didn’t last.

And now he'd put himself in the middle of a goddamn werewolf mating hunt…

Toby let out a quiet, bitter laugh, barely audible over the wind. What the hell was wrong with him?

For a brief, uneasy moment, his mind flickered to Caleb. Could it be him?

Had Caleb, in some twisted, sadistic attempt to make his life hell, somehow put his name on that list? Had he bought Toby’s place in this hunt just to torment him even more?

The thought made his skin crawl… But just as quickly, he dismissed it. No. Caleb was all bark, no bite. He liked posturing, liked playing at power, juvenile bullying shit that—afterwards, when he was patching himself up—made Toby laugh. But Caleb was still just a spoiled, self-important rich kid with nothing better to do. He wouldn't have the patience to orchestrate something like this.

Whoever had sent that email, whoever had put all that money aside, had gone through the effort of making sure the deal was ironclad.

Which meant someone out there wanted him to be caught. Toby swallowed hard, his pulse thrumming. He just didn’t know who.

Now, standing at the forest’s edge, the weight of his choice settled heavy in his bones. He wasn’t the only one desperate enough to be here, but that didn’t mean he felt any less alone.

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