Hunter Is The Hunted
1354 Words
“Tie him up!” I ordered, loosening the strap on my mask as my hands moved.
Diana stepped forward with the silver ropes, the metal links clinking like a tiny bell. “For someone with a sharp mouth and all that boldness,” she said, looping a line around his wrists, “he’s making this look too easy.”
“Don’t jinx it, Diana,” Tomas grumbled, kneeling to fasten the knot.
I hummed, half a laugh, half a warning. “Keep your eyes open. Two of you—check the perimeter. Backups, traps, anything.”
“On it,” Marcus answered, already moving, breaths quiet in the dark. Finn and Roan melted into the trees with practiced silence.
I stepped closer to him, the body at my feet. He was heavy even bound—too heavy for just a man. Blood had painted his chest where the dagger had lain. The silver ropes shone under the moon, catching on the sticky wetness.
Diana tied another loop, then helped pull him to his feet.
“Drag him,” I said. “Down the road. The Council should see this.”
They grunted and hauled. He sagged, limbs loose, shoulders sliding against the dirt. I felt the air move between us like a held breath. I pulled my mask off, the fabric slipping away, exposing the damp line of my jaw. Then my gloves. The cold hit my fingers as I flexed them, felt the blood on my palm where it had splashed when I’d pulled the blade free. I didn’t flinch.
We walked. Torches flickered faintly in the distance, the path uneven and damp. My men kept their grips tight on the ropes, dragging his weight through the brush. Diana muttered something under her breath, too quiet to catch.
Then—laughter.
It started low, like a cough. Then it rolled louder, spilling out of the body between them. He laughed as if this were all a game.
The hunters froze.
My stomach dropped.
“What… what the hell?” Tomas stammered.
He lifted his head slowly, golden eyes burning through the shadows. Blood streaked his throat, but his grin was intact, wide and cruel.
“You humans,” he said, his voice rasping but steady, “so proud of your ropes, your dust, your silver toys. You really thought that would keep me?”
Diana’s face paled. “No—impossible. We stabbed you. You bled out—”
He threw his head back and laughed again, harsh and sharp. “Silver. Petty things. They sting. They burn. But me?” His gaze locked on mine, unwavering. “They don’t work on me.”
I clenched my dagger tighter, stepping forward. “Then maybe I need to carve deeper.”
“Try,” he taunted, arms straining against the bonds.
I lunged, blade flashing. He met me halfway, faster than before. His hand closed around my wrist like iron, halting me mid-strike. Our eyes locked—his full of wicked amusement, mine sharp with fury.
And then he let me go.
Not because I overpowered him. No. He released me deliberately, like swatting a child’s toy aside. His voice was smooth, mocking. “You see? Nothing holds me. Not your ropes. Not your weapons. Not even your pride.”
I stumbled back, breathing hard.
“Fall back!” I barked, my voice breaking through the stunned silence of my men.
No one moved.
But he did.
The rope split with a violent snap, silver threads bursting apart, glowing faintly before they disintegrated into dust that drifted down like dying sparks.
Diana’s breath hitched—half scream, half warning—but it was already too late.
He lunged.
One swipe, fast as lightning, his claws ripped into her throat.
The sound was the worst part: a wet, ripping tear, like cloth soaked in water being shredded in two.
Warm droplets of blood struck my cheek. The trees around us painted red as her blood fanned across bark and leaf.
Diana’s eyes bulged, confusion flickering before horror locked her face. Her hands clutched her throat, desperate, but the blood poured through her fingers, gushing down her chest in thick streams.
She staggered back, boots skidding in the dirt, a choking gargle bubbling in her mouth.
Her knees buckled.
She crumpled at his feet, twitching once, then stilled—eyes glassy, mouth frozen half-open, blood pooling beneath her like a shadow that wouldn’t stop growing.
“Diana!” Tomas yelled, rushing forward, but I yanked him back.
“Stay down!” My own scream ripped from my chest, body still stunned from what had just happened.
His golden eyes shone with pleasure, blood dripping from his claws. He smirked at me, calm as if he hadn’t just torn my hunter apart.
“Now,” he said softly, almost playfully, “this is starting to get interesting.”
No one moved.
My team stood frozen, every breath shallow. Diana’s body was still twitching in the dirt, blood pooling beneath her head.
Goosebumps filled my skin, my leg frozen as I stared deep into the eyes of this monster.
Come on Sage…move.
I gulped down air. Taking a deep breath, releasing the tension in my body.
“Formation!” I snapped, “Now! Surround him!”
Boots scraped, weapons lifted. My men obeyed—because that’s what we’d trained for. That’s what Whitmores did.
But he moved before the circle could close.
One second he was in front of me. The next, he was behind Tomas. Claws ripped straight through chest and bone. Blood sprayed warm across my cheek as Tomas dropped to his knees, choking, eyes already glazing.
“NO!” someone shouted.
“Hold formation!” I screamed. My voice cracked, betraying the tremor in my chest.
He moved again—so fast I couldn’t even track him.
A sickening crunch, and Finn’s head hit the ground before his body followed.
My breath came ragged. “Keep shooting! Don’t stop!”
Silver bolts flew, but they hit nothing. He wasn’t where we aimed. Every flash of gold was already somewhere else—behind, above, beside us. And every time he reappeared, another scream split the night.
Roan’s body arced through the air, torn apart like paper. Blood rained. The ground grew slick beneath our boots.
My heart pounded in my ears. I was the one giving orders, the one meant to lead. But my hunters were dying faster than I could speak.
“Where—” I turned, searching, spinning—“where is he?!”
Silence answered. Then a laugh.
Low.
Taunting me.
It was everywhere at once.
And at the same time…nowhere.
My chest tightened. For the first time in years, I felt real fear claw its way into my throat.
Another hunter screamed—cut off as claws shredded his back. He collapsed forward, lifeless before he even hit the ground.
Blood. So much blood. It soaked my boots, painted the trees, stained my hands though I hadn’t moved.
My breaths became shallow.
My vision blurred, every sound muffled except the pounding of my own heart. I couldn’t see where to strike. Couldn’t even think.
What kind of monster is this?
One by one, every ally I’d brought with me hit the ground. Their eyes stared blankly at the night sky, their blood pooling together until it felt like the forest floor itself was bleeding.
I was the last.
Alone.
The word I'd mocked him with earlier now sang like a curse in my head.
The air shifted behind me.
I looked up. Right. Left.
But he was no where. Goosebumps filled my skin. I gulped with fear.
“Come…”
Too late, I turned—
His hand wrapped around my throat, fingers closing like a vice. My boots lifted off the ground. My sword slipped from my grasp, clattering uselessly at my side.
He leaned in, golden eyes glowing inches from mine. His breath was hot against my ear, thick with blood.
“How does the hunter,” he whispered, voice dripping with amusement, “feel about being the hunted?”
- Writer
