Page 63 of Freestyle
“Participants,” I say again, voice warped behind the mask, “you’ve been given your numbers for the games. You know the rules.”
A hush spreads, but it’s not silence, it’s the sound of hearts pounding in sync with the drums echoing from the woods.
“You run. We seek. If you’re caught and you don’t give willingly, you’re out. No second chances. No excuses. Consent isn’t a courtesy tonight. It’s currency. Yours to trade, or to hold.”
I step forward into the circle of firelight. Faces flicker, shadows dancing across painted wood and wide eyes.
“But listen carefully, this isn’t just about proving yourself. Tonight, the forest watches. The old rules breathe through the trees, and they don’t like cowards. If you’re scared now? Good. You should be. Fear sharpens the mind. It makes you worthy.”
The air hums, hot and brittle.
“In one hour, the game ends. Until then, you are prey with teeth. So run smart. Run fast. And whatever you do…” I lower my voice until it scrapes against the night, “don’t look back. The forest loves to keep those who do.”
She doesn’t blink.
The fire dances in her eyes but she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t twitch, not even when I lean into the final threat like it’s a promise meant for her. The others shift and whisper, heartsthundering against their ribs.But Rowyn?She just stands there, unmoved.
I know her tells by now. The subtle ones, the dangerous ones. The way her fists curl, slow and quiet, like she’s reminding herself not to draw bloodyet. The way her head tilts, chin high, like the night has already sworn its allegiance to her. She’s not masking fear. She’s weaponizing calm.
And that mouth barely, barely twitches. Like the idea of not looking back amuses her, like she’s already rewritten the rules in ink only she can see.
Every other girl out here looks like prey, fragile and scared, waiting to be chased.
Rowyn looks like the first one who came to hunt the seekers.
The second that whistle blows, I won’t follow.
I’ll wait.
Because she’ll come to me. They always do.
But not like her.
Never like her.
“Let the hunt begin.”
Twelve
Rowyn
“Letthehuntbegin.”
The words hit, and the forest shivers. They scatter, yellow, red, blue masks flashing as bodies vanish into trees. Hunters, cloaked in ceremony.
I don’t wear a mask, because I’m not meant to hide who I am. I’m the one they wantseen. Watched. Followed. Owned.
But without a mask, I don’t become prey.
I become bait.
And bait, when it knows it’s bait, becomes something far more dangerous.
I feelGray’s eyes even when I can’t see him. Watching to see if I break. I won’t. Let them wear their masks like armor. I’ll use their bare hands to tear them off, one by one.
They think they disappear when the masks go on, but I know Nix’s shape in the dark; broad shoulders held too tight, jaw clenched even behind neon lights. And Gray? He moves quieter, almost like he doesn’t want to be seen. But I see them. I always see them.
Two green masks flash at the edge of the firelight, captains, kings, would-be gods. Everyone sees their power.
