Page 1 of Make Me Hunt
Prologue
-Ares-
I stare into the fire, the orange flames fighting for survival, and I can almost hear the clash of metal as blood soaks the ground.
Fire burns. Fire purifies. Like there’s any fucking chance anything could purify me of her. She’s deep in my veins now, infiltrating like a drug that keeps me addicted, more vital than the blood running through them. The one thing I never wanted. And now, the one thing I can’t live without.
The devil’s own son, brought to his knees by a mere mortal. But that’s only because she’s so much more than just a simple human.
Humans are fragile, easy to break. She’s a fucking force of nature.
There’s a Frida Kahlo quote: “Not fragile like a flower, fragile like a bomb.” Well, that’s the definition of her—a bomb set to shatter my world completely. Destroy everything I’ve known and rebuild it for her twisted pleasure.
Because she’s broken. And I’m brokenforher.
I’ve lived through battles, wars, and the collapse of worlds. I’ve seen kingdoms fall, and empires burn—many by my own hands. I’ve witnessed the dawn of the Apocalypse. I’ve been around almost since the creation of life itself. Yet, I’ve never come close to feeling as alive as I do next to her.
And I won’t rest until she is mine. Until her very breath occurs only with the thought of me. Until her body aches every second of the day for me to touch it. Until her wounds become mine to heal, and her darkest secrets, mine to bring to life.
All mine, entirely.
one
-Brynn-
My hands dig through the mud, fast, unyielding, refusing to give up before I learn the truth. Though it’s not the truth I want right now. I want a sweet lie. One that would tear me away from all of this. A lie that would stop my soul from feeling like it’s been ripped to pieces and my heart torn from my chest.
But I wasn’t raised that way. No one’s coming to my rescue. No one can ease the pain I’m about to face. The moment my hands scrape the dirt from his porcelain face, that same pain comes crashing in, like choking waves over and over again, grabbing me in its noose, claiming the last drops of happiness I ever knew.
I dig faster, my fingertips beginning to bleed, but I already know it’s too late. I’m hours or maybe days late, and as I wipe the last traces of dirt from his face, I see his beautiful blue orbs staring back at me.
Whoever did this didn’t even have the decencyto close his eyes.
My tears mix with the dirt. It’s the first time I’ve cried since… I can’t even remember when. I wasn’t taught to cry. I was taught to survive. But now, I just can’t stop. The tears keep rolling down my face, and I can’t stop staring at the lifeless body ofthe only person I ever loved.
-Earlier that night-
I pace the length of the room. Elias should’ve been home two nights ago.
My thoughts are a mess, I can’t even think straight. He’s never been gone this long. I know he’s been working on a story that seemed way shadier than his usual articles. He’s trying to step up in the game, make a name for himself. I just pray he hasn’t gotten in too deep.
It’s not unusual for him to stay out for the night, but never two nights in a row—at least, not without telling me. Maybe I’d blame it on Halloween, but his phone’s out of service. The last pinged location was a bar on the outskirts of town, three days ago. I was there last night, searching for him, but I didn’t ask any questions.
I don’t want to stir the water. Not yet. He might be working on a case, and I don’t want to risk jeopardizing him in any way by snooping around.
I still hope he turns up. But with his phone off the grid, I’ve got a bad feeling.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, praying for a sign. A few weeks ago, I stuck an AirTag on my house keys because I never know where they are, and the morning Elias left, he accidentally grabbed mine.
It’s not the first time that’s happened since he bought us matching keychains. I just wish the damn thing worked. The AirTag hadn’t updated since the bar, so I’m wondering if it’s dead, just like his phone.
God, I need a drink, but the only thing around here is tap water. Or toilet water. All alcohol’s long gone by now, and as much as I’d like to go back to that bar and ask for anything to untie this knot in my throat, I stay in the apartment, hoping Elias will walk through the door.
Work’s calling, even though it’s 6 a.m. It’s the fourth time since last night. My position doesn’t allow me to call in sick or skip a shift, especially since last night was Halloween and the club was packed.
I work there as a hostess, but my real job is keeping an eye on the staff, making sure they don’t steal from the bar, inflate tabs, or hustle clients. That’s my agreement with the owners, and I’ve got a feeling I’ll be unemployed if I don’t show up soon.
I’m making myself what is probably coffee number five of the day. Come to think of it, it’s already a new day, and I’m trying to convince myself that I should wait at least a few more hours before I burst into Elias’s room and start digging for clues about where he might have gone. I don’t want to interfere with his work. The same way, he doesn’t interfere with mine. But desperate times call for desperate measures.
