Chapter Nine: The Collector

He watched her from the edge of the trees.

Not too close. Not yet.

The mark had bloomed faster than he expected — that was rare. Most fought it until it tore them apart. But not this girl.

She was changing beautifully.

A perfect bloom of moonblood and fear.

He crouched in the shadows, hands pressed into the damp earth. His fingertips traced the soil like it could speak to him.

And it could.

A trail. Fresh. Warm.

The girl had finally opened the bond.

That meant she was claimable.

He smiled.

Another one for the collection.

Back at the cabin, Ava curled beneath a threadbare blanket, body shaking. Not from cold — from something else.

Something inside.

The humming in her veins hadn't stopped. If anything, it was getting louder. She could feel it in her teeth. In her fingertips. In her thoughts.

Like the bond was no longer just inside her body — it was under her skin.

She touched the mark again.

It pulsed like a heartbeat that didn't belong to her.

She whispered into the dark, "Rhett, where are you?"

But the wind didn't answer.

The man in the woods rose slowly, lifting a silver-tipped blade from the sheath at his back.

"I hope she runs," he murmured. "I like it when they run."

Then he turned and vanished into the shadows…

…and the hunt began.