THE FIRST LADY’S SIN

Chapter 11 – The Hunt

The camera’s click still hung in the smoky air, sharp as a gunshot. Adrian stared at Isabel, his face pale, stricken, as if she had pulled the trigger on him instead of a shutter.

James, though, looked delighted. His smile stretched slowly and cruelly, his teeth catching the glow of the firelight. “Oh, she’s magnificent,” he murmured. “You see, Adrian? This is why I chose her. She isn’t weak like the others. She doesn’t crumble. She creates.”

Isabel kept the camera trained on them, the lens her shield. “You didn’t choose me, James,” she said, her voice like flint. “I walked into your game so I could end it.”

James’s laugh was low, dangerous. “End it? Darling, you’ve only just begun.”

He snapped his fingers.

From somewhere deeper in the cabin, footsteps echoed… heavy, deliberate. Another man appeared, tall and broad-shouldered, his face obscured by shadow. He carried a rifle casually slung across his chest, as if it were an accessory.

Isabel’s stomach tightened. This wasn’t just James’s playground. It was his arena.

Adrian stepped forward, panic flickering in his eyes. “James, don’t. She’s not…”

“Quiet.” James’s voice was a whipcrack. Adrian froze.

James rose, finally stepping into the full glow of the fire. His presence filled the room, towering, suffocating. “Here’s how this works,” he said smoothly. “You, Isabel, are going to run. And we… we are going to hunt.”

The words slithered into the silence, curling around Isabel’s spine.

The bound woman whimpered, shaking her head violently. “No, please, don’t.”

James’s hand tightened on her shoulder until she gasped. “Hush. This isn’t your game.” He looked back at Isabel, his eyes gleaming. “It’s hers.”

Isabel’s breath hitched. “You expect me to play along with this?”

“I don’t expect,” James corrected softly. “I demand.”

Adrian looked like he might collapse. “James, stop this madness. You’ve gone too far.”

James turned his gaze on him, cold and sharp. “And you? You had the chance to step away. You stayed. That makes you complicit.”

Adrian opened his mouth, but Isabel cut in, her voice hard. “What happens if I don’t run?”

James tilted his head, smiling like a cat. “Then the game ends quickly. And where’s the fun in that?”

The man with the rifle stepped closer, his shadow stretching long across the floor. Isabel’s heart pounded, every instinct screaming trap, trap, trap.

But then, something shifted.

The fear that had held her captive for so long began to harden. Her pulse still raced, but beneath it burned a steady fire.

They wanted her to run. They wanted her to be afraid.

But prey only runs when it doesn’t know it has teeth.

Isabel lowered the camera slowly, slipping it into the strap of her dress. She straightened, her shoulders squared, her chin high.

“I’ll run,” she said.

James’s grin widened, triumphant. “That’s my girl.”

“But not for you,” Isabel added, her eyes cutting like glass. “For her.” She nodded toward the bound woman. “She comes with me.”

James’s amusement flickered. “No. She stays.”

“Then the game’s off.” Isabel folded her arms, her tone sharp as steel. “You don’t get what you want.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Even the fire seemed to pause its crackle.

Then James laughed… loud, booming, delighted. “God, you are perfect. Fine. She goes with you. Two deer for the hunt.”

The woman’s eyes widened in terror. Isabel’s heart thudded, but she forced herself to nod.

James gestured lazily to the door. “You have a five-minute head start. Use it wisely.”

The rifleman shifted, ready. James’s gaze burned into Isabel, hot and unrelenting. “Run, little lamb. Let’s see if you’ve finally grown claws.”

James escalates the game into a literal hunt, giving Isabel and the captive woman a head start. But Isabel isn’t running as prey. She’s beginning to plot as a predator.

The cabin door slammed shut behind them, echoing like a gavel striking judgment.

The night swallowed Isabel and the bound woman whole. The forest loomed, black and endless, the only light spilling from the cabin’s windows… a false beacon behind them.

“Move,” Isabel hissed, gripping the woman’s arm. Her legs were weak, her breath shallow, but adrenaline propelled them forward into the trees.

Branches clawed at Isabel’s dress. The damp earth sucked at her heels. Each step cracked twigs that sounded deafening in the silence.

Behind them, the faint chime of James’s voice carried into the woods: “Five minutes, Isabel. Don’t waste them.”

The woman stumbled, nearly falling. Isabel caught her, tugging the ropes binding her wrists. “We need these off.”

“I…I can’t,” the woman sobbed. “He tied them too tight.”

“Then we’ll use what we can.” Isabel scanned the dark until she spotted a jagged rock jutting from the ground. She pulled the woman to it, pressing the rope against its edge. “Saw. Fast.”

The woman obeyed, rubbing frantically. Fibers frayed, but not enough.

“Come on, come on,” Isabel muttered, her ears straining for footsteps. Every crunch of leaves might be James. Every rustle of branches might be his rifleman raising the scope.

The ropes gave slightly, loosening around the woman’s raw wrists. She gasped, eyes wild with hope.

Then a sound split the air. A single sharp whistle.

Isabel froze.

James’s signal.

The hunt had begun.

They plunged deeper into the woods, roots twisting underfoot, the canopy above blotting out even the moonlight. The woman’s breath came ragged, desperate. Isabel’s own lungs burned, but she forced her pace steady.

“Keep low,” Isabel whispered. “Make yourself small. Don’t leave a trail.”

It wasn’t just instinct, it was calculation. She remembered every sermon, every meeting where Adrian had praised James’s “strategic mind.” She remembered the smug way James described hunting trips with donors, the thrill of the chase.

If James treated this like a sport, then Isabel would treat it like a war.

She snapped a branch as they passed, deliberately. A breadcrumb. A misdirection.

The woman flinched. “Why would you?”

“Trust me,” Isabel cut her off. “If he wants us to run blind, we’ll make him think we are. Let him follow what we want him to follow.”

The woman’s eyes widened as the rope finally snapped, her wrists bloody but free. Isabel grabbed her hand. “Good. Now we fight back.”

A shot rang out in the distance. A bark splintered from a tree nearby, showering them with shards.

The woman screamed, ducking. Isabel yanked her down behind a fallen log, heart pounding.

The rifleman’s aim was close. Too close.

James’s laughter carried faintly through the woods, mocking. “Run faster, Isabel! Or are you ready to fall on your knees already?”

Isabel’s rage surged hotter than fear. He wanted her to beg. He wanted her broken.

Not tonight.

She pressed her back against the log, chest heaving, mind racing. “We’re not going to outpace them,” she whispered. “So we change the game.”

The woman looked at her, terrified and trembling. “Change it how?”

Isabel’s lips curled, sharp as the edge of the rock. “We stop running.”

Shots ring out, the chase closes in, and Isabel realizes running won’t save them. Instead, she begins plotting to flip the hunt, to turn James’s own game against him.

The forest pressed in, damp and suffocating, each shadow alive with menace. Isabel crouched behind the log, the woman beside her shaking so hard the leaves around them rattled.

“They’re coming,” the woman whispered, her voice breaking.

“Good,” Isabel muttered.

The woman blinked, confused. “Good?”

“Yes.” Isabel’s eyes narrowed, searching the darkness. “Because they expect me to run. Which means they’ll never see me waiting.”

The woman shook her head violently. “We’ll die if we stay.”

“No,” Isabel cut her off. “We die if we play his game. James hunts prey. So we stop being prey.”

Her fingers dug into the soil, grounding her. Every nerve in her body screamed with fear, but beneath it pulsed something sharper… rage, cold and electric.

She grabbed a thick branch from the ground, testing its weight. Not perfect, but enough to swing. Enough to c***k a bone.

The rifleman’s footsteps crunched somewhere close. Heavy. Careless. He thought she was still running.

Perfect.

She pulled the trembling woman closer. “Stay low. When I move, don’t scream. Don’t move. Just breathe.”

The woman nodded, tears streaking her dirt-smeared face.

Isabel waited, her muscles coiled, her heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the footsteps. Closer. Closer.

The rifleman’s shadow spilled across the leaves, long and sharp.

Isabel burst from behind the log, swinging the branch with every ounce of fury in her body. It connected with a sickening c***k against his temple.

He staggered, the rifle slipping from his grip. Isabel lunged, clawing at the weapon. He growled, recovering faster than she expected, shoving her back against a tree.

Pain exploded in her spine, but she didn’t let go. She rammed her knee into his stomach, wrenching the rifle free as he doubled over.

Her hands shook as she raised it, the barrel aimed at his chest.

For a heartbeat, the world stilled.

Then James’s voice cut through the night, low and mocking. “Oh, Isabel. I knew you had teeth.”

Her blood ran cold. He was closer than she thought. Watching. Enjoying.

The rifleman groaned, clutching his head, glaring at her with murderous fury. Isabel’s finger hovered on the trigger, but she hesitated.

Because James wanted her to shoot. She could hear it in his tone, taste it in the air. He wanted the rush of her crossing that line, from survivor to killer.

The woman whimpered behind her. “Please… don’t let him take me.”

Isabel’s pulse roared in her ears. She could end this man. Remove one threat. But if she fired, the sound would give James everything. Her position. Her fear. Her soul.

The rifleman lunged again.

Isabel swung the rifle sideways instead of firing, smashing the butt into his jaw. He crumpled with a grunt, unconscious.

She kicked the rifle away, her chest heaving. “One down.”

James clapped slowly from the shadows, the sound echoing through the trees. “Bravo. But let’s see how long you can keep this up.”

The firelight from the cabin flickered faintly in the distance. And from its edge, another figure emerged.

Adrian.

His face was torn with conflict, sweat dripping, eyes darting between James and Isabel.

James’s laughter rolled across the woods. “Well? Pick a side, Pastor. Do you hunt with me or fall with her?”

Isabel locked eyes with Adrian, her breath ragged, her body trembling but unbroken.

“Choose,” she spat.

Isabel incapacitates the rifleman without falling into James’s trap, proving she’s no longer prey. But now the true test begins: Adrian must finally reveal where his loyalty lies.