THE HUNTER

CHAPTER 4

Elena's heart hammered against her ribs. Each beat felt louder than the last, pounding in her ears as she gazed at the massive man cloaked entirely in black. His presence consumed the small, grimy room, radiating an intensity that made the air feel heavier. Dark, unruly strands of hair spilled over his broad shoulders like shadows given form. His eyes fierce and cold reminded her of a stormy sea. A scar carved a path from his cheekbone to his jaw, the only imperfection that somehow heightened his dangerous, predatory allure. He looked less like a savior and more like a demon summoned from the depths of her worst nightmares.

Unlike the bands of brutes who had dragged her here, Ronan had not laid a single finger on her. He hadn't lunged at her with greedy hands or with hungry eyes. And, perhaps most unsettling of all, he hadn't transformed right before her hadn't undergone that shift where flesh rippled and bones cracked as men twisted into wolves. That, at least, was a small mercy she clung to with trembling fingers. A shaky, almost hysterical laugh clawed out of her throat. Surely none of that had actually happened, right? People didn't just shed their humanity and become animals. That was the stuff of campfire stories and cheap horror novels, not reality. She had to be hallucinating, her mind warped and poisoned by whatever drugs her captors had forced into her system. Yes, that had to be it, a dream, nothing else.

One thing was certain. If she stayed here, they’d r**e her, use her, and then dispose of her when they were done.

She weighed her options. There was only one path forward, and it rested in the hands of the devilish stranger before her. Swallowing the lump of fear lodged in her throat, Elena extended her small, trembling hand and placed it into his open palm. His skin was rough and warm.

Then saw his gaze dipped downwards to her bare legs. A wave of humiliation washed over her, suffocating, burning her cheeks and neck. She yanked her hand back and tried to shield herself with her palms.

"Put this on," he commanded, his voice low. His brow furrowed into a deep scowl as he shrugged off his worn leather jacket, deliberately turning his gaze away to grant her some privacy. He thrust the garment into her trembling hands.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice wavering as she shoved her arms into the sleeves. The jacket enveloped her small frame, heavy and smelling of sandalwood and leather masculine and surprisingly clean. Unlike her captors, he didn’t carry the stench of sweat.

She cringed inwardly, acutely aware of her own state: nauseated, drenched in cold sweat, and reeking of fear after being bound like an animal for hours. Ronan would probably never want this jacket back once she ruined it with her foul, unwashed scent.

"I'm Ronan Blackwood," he replied, his tone businesslike. "I've been sent to bring you back home."

Relief flooded through her. The police in Darkridge had actually come through.

His piercing gaze dropped to her bare feet. "Where are your shoes?" he asked, his voice edged with barely suppressed irritation.

"That asshole took them when he strapped me down," she spat, venom lacing her words. She glared at the floor, remembering the greasy hands that had bound her. She pulled the jacket tighter around her, seeking comfort in its worn fabric.

A muscle twitched violently in Ronan's jaw a silent indication of his simmering rage. He strode toward the door and peered cautiously through a crack, his entire body going rigid. "f**k," he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Elena winced as she scrambled to his side, ignoring the sharp sting of a glass shard embedding itself into the tender sole of her foot. She gripped his arm for support, steadying herself as she bent to dig the tiny sliver out of her flesh with trembling fingers.

He recoiled from her touch with a low snarl. "They're coming back. We're out of time."

“Then, let’s go.” she urged, panic sharpening her voice.

"They've blocked the road," he said, his jaw tight. "Our only escape is through the woods. But you have no shoes."

"I don't care," she declared, lifting her chin with a look of resolve. "I'd rather shred my feet to ribbons than stay here and let those animals put their hands on me again." Her voice cracked, but her stare remained unwavering. She would not stay. She couldn't.

"Then keep up," he growled, seizing her hand with bruising force. They burst from the building, sprinting past the panicked men who were frantically trying to douse the roaring blaze with pathetic coolers of melting ice. Ronan tugged her forward, his long, powerful strides forcing her to stumble and gasp as she fought to match his pace. Chaos reigned throughout the camp, flames licking the night sky, shouts ringing out, but no one noticed the two shadows slipping toward the treeline. When they finally reached the shelter of the dark woods, Ronan halted and cast one last look back at the burning chaos.

But Elena was done waiting. She wrenched her hand free from his steely grip, her heart screaming at her to run, to flee, to put as much distance between herself and those monsters as humanly possible. Without a second thought, she shoved past him and plunged headlong into the abyss of the thick woods. Briars and underbrush tore at her feet and legs like a thousand needles. Each step brought a fresh wave of agony. She gritted her teeth, forcing the pain down into a distant hum, focusing only on escape. Bloody feet could heal. But if she didn't get away, she wouldn't survive the night.

The oppressive darkness swallowed her whole; she threw her arms out blindly to avoid slamming face first into unseen trunks. Ronan’s furious curses echoed behind her, and within seconds,

he was at her side again, his presence like a shadow in the pitch-black.

"How much farther?" she gasped, just before her body collided brutally with a solid tree trunk. She fell backward, her balance lost, but his strong hands caught her before she hit the ground.

"Watch where you're going," he snapped, steadying her roughly before giving her a shove forward.

She made it exactly three steps before her face met another unforgiving tree, and this time, her ass slammed into the cold, hard earth with a thud.

"Can't you pay any attention?" Ronan grunted, grabbing her under her arms and hauling her upright like a ragdoll. Though she couldn't see his face in the darkness, she could practically feel the impatient scowl twisting his features.

“I can’t see in the dark, you asshole,” she shouted, her voice cracking with a mixture of terror and fury. Heat flushed her cheeks as she curled her hands into tight fists at her sides.

"What do you mean you can't see in the dark?" he demanded, shoving her forward once more. "Of course you can see. Everyone can see."

She spun on him, rage overriding her fear. "Shove me one more time, and I swear I'll punch you right in the face! I told you I can't see! What do you think I am, some kind of bat?"

He stopped dead, and the weight of his silence pressed against her. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, cold, and utterly certain.

"No," he said, each word deliberate and sharp as a blade.

“a wolf.”