Hunter and Prey
961 Words
Isabelle Raven wasn’t easily rattled. But as she stepped out of the elevator and into the dimly lit parking garage, her pulse was still unsteady. The echo of that man’s words clung to her skin like an omen.
You shouldn’t be alive.
She forced the memory aside and walked toward her car. Linda was already waiting, leaning against the sleek black Mercedes with her arms crossed. The glow of her tablet screen reflected off her glasses, illuminating sharp, analytical eyes.
“You’re late,” Linda said, pushing off the car. “And you look like you just walked out of a thriller novel. Bad board meeting or bad man?”
Isabelle smirked. “Both. But I won.”
Linda’s grin was sharp. “Damn right you did. Victor looked ready to throw a fit when the votes came in.” She opened the car door for Isabelle. “And now, my fearless leader, we celebrate?”
Isabelle slid into the driver’s seat. “Not quite. We have a problem.”
Linda sighed. “Of course, we do.”
Back at Isabelle’s penthouse, she threw her blazer over the couch and headed straight for the bar. Pouring herself a glass of whiskey, she held it up in silent offering to Linda, who raised a hand in refusal.
“Too early for me,” Linda said, dropping onto the couch. “Alright, hit me. What’s wrong?”
Isabelle took a slow sip, then placed the glass down with deliberate control. “My assets. They’re frozen.”
Linda blinked. “Excuse me?”
“Victor’s pulling strings behind the scenes. Every company account I have access to has been locked under ‘financial review’ due to some bullshit legal technicality. My personal accounts? Suspended. And I have a feeling this is just the start.”
Linda swore under her breath, pulling out her tablet. “This is war.”
“Always has been.” Isabelle leaned against the bar. “We need liquidity, fast.”
Linda frowned as she typed. “There’s got to be a workaround. Offshore accounts? Investment assets we can offload?”
“We have some,” Isabelle said, rubbing her temple, “but not enough to keep operations afloat for long. Victor’s playing this smart. He knows if I can’t pay suppliers and employees, I lose credibility. If I don’t act fast, the board will reconsider today’s decision.”
Linda hesitated, glancing up. “There’s one option.”
Isabelle sighed. “I know.”
A name lingered in the air between them.
Adrian Sol.
Finding Adrian was easy. He wasn’t hiding. He wanted to be found.
The invitation arrived before she even reached out. A black envelope, elegantly sealed with a wax crest in the shape of a wolf’s head. Inside, only an address and a time.
Midnight.
She arrived at an exclusive lounge nestled in the heart of Manhattan’s elite district. A place that didn’t exist unless you were invited. A place where deals were struck over blood and bourbon.
The hostess, a striking woman with eyes too sharp to be human, led her to a private booth. Adrian was already there, a glass of dark amber liquid in his hand, watching her with the same unreadable expression from before.
“You came,” he murmured, amusement lacing his tone.
“I don’t have time for games,” Isabelle said, sliding into the seat across from him. “You extended an invitation. Let’s hear the terms.”
Adrian chuckled, swirling his drink. “Straight to business. I admire that.”
She said nothing.
He leaned forward. “You need money. I have it.”
“No strings attached?” she challenged.
“Oh, there are always strings, Isabelle.” His voice was velvet over steel. “The question is whether you’re willing to play along.”
She held his gaze, refusing to show any sign of weakness. “I don’t take charity.”
“And I don’t give it.”
A slow smile spread across his face as he pulled something from his pocket and slid it across the table.
A pendant. A wolf’s head. Familiar.
Isabelle’s breath hitched. “Where did you get this?”
Adrian’s silver eyes gleamed. “Your past is catching up with you, Isabelle. The question is… are you ready for it?”
The pendant was warm in her palm, as if it had just been touched. A memory flickered in her mind—a small hand clutching it tightly, a whisper of a voice she hadn’t heard in years. Keep this close. It will protect you.
Her mother’s voice.
She looked back at Adrian. “Who else knows about this?”
“More people than you’d like,” he admitted. “And some of them aren’t as patient as I am.”
Isabelle’s grip tightened. “Is that a threat?”
“A warning.” Adrian leaned closer, his presence overwhelming. “There are forces moving against you. Your mother knew it. Your father tried to protect you from it. But you’ve been playing in the dark too long, Isabelle. It’s time you see the full picture.”
“I don’t trust you,” she said coldly.
He smiled, slow and knowing. “You don’t have to.”
The tension between them was thick enough to cut. Every instinct screamed at her to reject his offer, to walk away.
But she wouldn’t be able to outrun this forever.
She stood, shoving the pendant into her pocket. “I don’t need your help.”
Adrian leaned back, smirking. “You will.”
She turned on her heel and left, but his words followed her out the door, lingering in the night like a promise she wouldn’t be able to ignore.
- Writer
