Hunted

The howl faded into the night, but its presence lingered like a whispered threat.

Anne's pulse pounded in her ears. She had never heard a sound like that before—not from the wolves that roamed the outskirts of her home, nor from any creature her mother had warned her about.

No, this was different.

This was a call.

Lucian's body was taut, every muscle coiled like a predator ready to strike. "They've found us," he muttered, scanning the darkness beyond the trees.

Anne swallowed hard. "Who?"

Lucian turned his gaze back to her, his expression unreadable. "Hunters."

The word sent a jolt through her.

"Hunters?" she echoed. "You mean humans?"

Lucian scoffed. "Not just humans. They're trained to kill things like us." His voice was sharp, edged with something close to disdain. "They don't see us as people, Anne. They see us as monsters."

Anne bristled. "I'm not a monster."

Lucian gave her a look, one she couldn't quite read. "That's what we all say," he murmured. "Until we prove otherwise."

Another howl ripped through the air, closer this time.

Anne's instincts screamed at her to run, but she forced herself to stay still. She had spent years obeying fear, letting it rule her choices. But tonight? Tonight, fear wouldn't control her.

Lucian, however, wasn't waiting for her to decide. He grabbed her wrist. "We have to move. Now."

Anne yanked her hand free. "I'm not running."

Lucian cursed under his breath. "You don't get it, do you? They don't capture. They kill. If they see you, they'll rip you apart before you can even—"

A sharp snap echoed through the trees.

Lucian stiffened. His head whipped toward the sound, his sharp eyes scanning the shadows.

Anne followed his gaze. The forest had gone eerily silent. No wind. No rustling leaves. Even the distant chirping of insects had vanished.

Something was here.

Then, in the dim moonlight, she saw it—movement between the trees. A shadow, barely visible, creeping closer.

Anne barely had time to react before a flash of silver sliced through the air—

Lucian shoved her aside.

A dagger buried itself into the tree behind her with a sickening thunk.

Anne's breath caught.

They weren't just hunting. They were attacking.

Lucian was already moving. He spun toward the darkness, his body a blur. His hand shot out, and suddenly—

A figure lurched from the shadows, yanked forward by some unseen force.

Anne barely registered what she was seeing before Lucian struck.

A swift movement—too fast for human eyes. His claws slashed across the hunter's chest, sending him crumpling to the ground with a strangled gasp.

Anne's stomach twisted.

She had never seen someone kill before.

The scent of blood filled the air, sharp and metallic.

Lucian exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if the fight had barely been an inconvenience. He turned to Anne. "Still think running's a bad idea?"

Anne's hands clenched. Her body was caught between instinct and hesitation, between what she had been taught and what she was witnessing.

She wasn't supposed to be here. She wasn't supposed to be in this war.

But she was.

Another figure burst through the trees. This one was different—faster, more prepared. His dagger gleamed in the moonlight, aimed straight for Lucian's throat.

Lucian barely managed to block in time.

The hunter was strong. Too strong. His attacks came with trained precision, each strike forcing Lucian to move back.

Anne's heart pounded.

She had to do something.

She reached for the fire inside her, calling it forward. Heat coiled in her chest, licking at her ribs like a living thing.

The hunter raised his blade for a killing blow—

Anne thrust her hand out.

Flames erupted from her palm.

The fire roared to life, a blazing inferno that swallowed the hunter whole. He screamed, staggering backward, his weapon clattering to the ground.

Anne's breath came in ragged gasps. The fire flickered in her hands, wild and untamed.

Lucian turned to her, something unreadable in his gaze. "That," he murmured, "is exactly why they fear you."

Anne barely heard him. Her fingers trembled. The fire—the power—had come so easily. Too easily.

She had nearly burned a man alive.

The hunter writhed on the ground, his screams still echoing.

Lucian stepped forward and, without hesitation, ended it with a swift strike. Silence fell once more.

Anne couldn't look away.

She had thought she was prepared for this.

She wasn't.

Lucian exhaled, flicking blood from his fingers. "They'll keep coming," he said. "They know you're here now."

Anne forced herself to breathe. She forced herself to push past the horror, past the fear.

She had a choice.

She could run back home, pretend none of this was real.

Or she could stand her ground.

She met Lucian's gaze. "Then we make sure they regret it."

Lucian's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"Now that's the spirit."