Page 70 of Stream & Scream
He gave me instructions to wait, to trust him, to believe that he will return for me and we’ll walk out of here together. He won’t kill me.
My body doesn’t entirely feel like my own as I rise from the old floorboards. It’s looser somehow, like a weight I didn't know I was carrying has been released through the simple act of surrendering to the most dominant predator I’ve ever known.
But there's pain too. Physical discomfort from being out here for the entire weekend, sleeping on the ground and in tree roots. It’s taking a toll on my body now. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this worn down in my life.
I barricade the windows as best I can with furniture and debris, creating obstacles that won't stop another hunter from getting in, but it’ll slow them down. The work helps distract me from the growing anxiety about being alone out here.
But even as I work, trying to secure the ranger station as much as I can, my mind drifts back to him.
The way his hands grip my body and take full control….
And the praise. God, the fucking praise. "Good girl" delivered in that rough voice is enough to make me unravel for him.
I position myself where I can see both the door and the windows, flare gun ready in hand, mind prepared for anything that’ll come next.
Either way, I won't disappoint him.
Even if it kills me.
Especiallyif it kills me.
I'm ready. I refuse to die tonight.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Jaxen
Sunday night
Tara’s heartbeat thrums steady on the monitor strapped to my wrist. Steady but far. She’s fast, too fast for someone with no chance of making it out. She runs like prey that already feels teeth scraping against her spine. And all it does is piss me off. Because every second I spend tracking her is another second Liv’s alone and vulnerable in that cabin.
My jaw tightens until it aches. My rifle strap grinds into my shoulder as I cut through the woods, the forest choking the path with wet roots. The air stinks of rot, rain-swelled leaves, and the copper tang of my own fucking rage. I duck under a trunk split years ago by lightning, clear a ridge in two strides, and land hard in the mud without a sound wasted. My body thrums with adrenaline and bloodlust, but it doesn’t feel clean, not like it usually does.
Because this isn’t a hunt I’m enjoying. This one’s a fucking leash, dragging me away from the only thing I want. The only thing Ineed. Liv. Every second I spend chasing Tara is a second I’m not at that cabin guarding what’s mine. But the predator inme won’t walk away leaving one alive. That’s not how this works. That’s not howIwork. Leaving prey on the board makes me look weak. Makes me look sloppy. And weakness is blood in the water.
One more. One last fucking contestant. Then I’m free to go back to her.
And for once, there’s no thrill in this fucking hunt. No dragging it out, making every second count. Not this time. Because I know Milo, and I know his pathetic ass has already given the green light. My replacement has already been dropped into my woods, with orders in his ear, and his trigger finger itching to prove he’s the new dog on their leash.
Sent not just to clean me up for going rogue but to hunt her too.
So I finish this. I clear the board. And then I go back to her. Nothing else fucking matters.
Back to Liv. Back to my fucking girl.
“I swear if he touches her, if one goddamn hand so much as grazes her skin, I’ll make this forest choke on the bodies it’s already holding, stack fresh corpses on the old ones until the ground splits under the weight.”
I’ll stack their precious cameras and their replacement hunter right on top of the bodies, salt the earth with their screams until there’s nothing left but ash.
I slow when the ping shifts east. Creekside. Smart move. Water hides scent. Fucks with the thermal. It’s exactly the kind of trick someone would try if they thought the rules of nature applied to me. They don’t. I’ve killed better prey for less. I adjust course, flanking the hill that runs parallel to the creek’s spine. Each step is deliberate. My heartbeat drops low, slow, efficient. I’m the blade that cuts without hesitation.
And yet the thought still slices through my skull—every second with her out of my sight is a fucking risk.
I scale a tree like it owes me the view, bark biting my palms, rifle clanging once against my spine before I pin it tight. Twenty feet. Twenty-five. My thighs burn, but I don’t stop until I’m crouched on a branch thick enough to hold my weight. The forest rolls beneath me, a black ocean frozen in place.
Rifle unslung. Scope on. Safety off.
I flick the thermal into place and the world shifts to gray and white, life pulsing against the void. My breath slows to a crawl as I scan the tree line. A bird flares bright in the canopy, wings twitching before it darts away. A raccoon waddles fat through a brush nest, glowing faint. A deer ghosts across a clearing, white-hot legs flashing as it bounds. Background noise. All of it noise.
