Page 36 of Hunting Harbor

One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand.

I give her a thirty-second head start—enough time to reach the tree line if she runs, enough time to believe she might actually escape—before I slide from the bed. My movements are unhurried as I pull on pants and a black thermal shirt. No need to rush. The forest is my territory, not hers. She'll be lucky to make it a mile before getting completely turned around.As much as I’ve lived in the city, I made sure to be out here whenever I could. I studied these woods just like I studied her.

Through the open door, I can see nothing but darkness, but my ears catch the faint sounds of her flight—snapping twigs, rustling undergrowth, the occasional muffled curse as she stumbles over unseen obstacles. She's heading east, following what she probably thinks is the road back to civilization. It's not. It's a game trail that leads deeper into the woods, eventually circling back toward the cabin in a long, disorienting loop.

Perfect.

I step onto the porch, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness. The night comes alive around me—the silver edges of leaves in the faint moonlight, the deeper shadows between trees, the sounds of nocturnal creatures going suddenly silent at the presence of a hunter. The air is crisp, carrying the first hint of frost, sharp in my lungs as I take a deep, satisfied breath.

From a hidden compartment beneath the porch steps, I grab what I need for tonight's entertainment. The ropes, handcuffs and zip ties. Then the mask, crafted from black leather and adorned with curved horns that rise from the forehead like a demon's crown. Around the eyes, gold gleams. The horn tips are gold as well. A truly beautiful mask. A symbol of brotherhood. We all have one. Slade, Knox, Creed and me. It transforms my features into something inhuman, something primeval that belongs to these dark woods.

I slide the mask over my face, feeling its familiar weight, the way it narrows my vision to focus only on what matters. The hunt. The capture. The submission.

Harbor's trail is easy to follow—broken branches, disturbed leaf litter, the occasional clear footprint in a patch of mud. She's running blindly, panic overriding any semblance of strategy. I can almost taste her fear on the night air, sweet and sharp.

I set off after her at an easy lope, conserving energy. No need to sprint. The woods are vast, but they're easy to navigate if you’ve spent time here. Every tree, every rock, every hidden hollow. Harbor is running, and I'll let her run just long enough to understand the futility of it.

In the distance, I hear her cry out—probably caught a branch across the face or stumbled into a thorny bush.

I smile behind my mask and pick up my pace. The game has begun, and I intend to enjoy every moment of it.

This is what I was made for—this primal dance of predator and prey, this moment when civilization falls away and we become what we truly are beneath the thin veneer of humanity.

My boots make no sound on the forest floor. Years of hunting with Noah have taught me how to blend with the darkness, how to become part of the night itself. Harbor has no such skills. She crashes through the underbrush like a wounded animal, leaving destruction in her wake that practically screams: Here I am. Come find me.

And I will. Oh, I fucking will.

The moon breaks through the clouds, casting silver light that transforms the forest into a monochrome dreamscape. In the distance, an owl calls, a long, mournful note that seems to pierce the darkness. The sound momentarily covers Harbor's panicked breathing, but I don't need to hear her to know where she is. Her fear has a scent all its own, sharp and sweet and intoxicating.

My cock stirs. I long to impale her on it and breathe in the way she moans.

I can tell she's tiring. Her footsteps are becoming more erratic, stumbling where before they were merely rushed. City girl, unused to the treacherous forest floor with its exposed roots and hidden hollows. I picture her lungs burning with each desperate breath, her legs trembling with exhaustion. The thought makes my cock throb harder against the confines of my pants.

A scream pierces the night—short and strangled, cut off almost as soon as it begins. She's spotted me. Or thought she did. The dark playing tricks on her terrified mind, transforming every shadow into a monster. Into me.

I quicken my pace, no longer concerned with stealth. Let her hear me coming. Let her know the hunt is nearly over. She’s only a bit in front of me, my long strides having covered much of the space she had made between us.

Harbor crashes through a dense patch of undergrowth, branches whipping against her face and arms. I hear her sob, a broken,desperate sound that sends a surge of pleasure straight to my groin. She's running blind now, all strategy abandoned in favor of pure animal panic.

I cut through the forest at an angle, anticipating her path. The game trail she's following curves ahead, winding around a massive oak that's stood in these woods since before either of us was born. I reach it first, pressing my back against the gnarled trunk, the mask cool against my flushed skin as I wait.

Harbor's ragged breathing grows louder as she approaches. I can hear the squelch of mud beneath her bare feet, the whimpers that escape with each exhale. Three steps. Two. One.

Gotcha, little rabbit.

Chapter Fourteen

Harbor

Fuck,fuck,fuck.He’sright on top of me… right here.

A scream falls from my lips as I try to fight, but I’m tired, so fucking tired from running.

Did I go in a loop? Why does everything feel familiar, and yet not? Ugh, fuck.

“Let me go!” I scream, my leg catching his shin as he pulls me towards him and pushes me against the tree.

He chuckles…

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