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When you received the phone call that brought you to your foster sister’s bedside in the hospital you couldn’t have anticipated things going quite the way they had. First, Grace tells you some insane story about her new family being part of some Satan worshiping cult. They’d seemed ordinary enough at the wedding but what did you know. Nothing about satanic cults apparently since you were now sitting beside Grace, both of you tied to a chair. Until about three minutes ago, you’d had a ball gag in your mouth. Kinky.
Some of the faces that surrounded you were familiar. Ignatio El Caido. Ursula Danforth. Titus Danforth. It was the latter that caught and held your attention. God, he was hot. He just smirked as he looked between you and Grace.
The man who introduced himself as The Lawyer stood before you, hands folded in front of him. He was small, unassuming, with a smug expression.
“Mrs. Le Domas,” he said.
“It’s MacCaulley,” Grace corrected automatically.
He ignored her. Rude. “You survived your game of hide and seek and in so doing you activated a seldom used clause deep in our bylaws. There will be a new game. The winner of which gets everything.”
“Everything?” you asked.
“The world.”
Grace and you exchanged a look. “Yeah, what so I pull another card?”
“Actually, no. As you won at hide and seek, that is the game you will play. A continuation, if you will.”
“No. I’m not doing that.”
“I’m afraid you have no choice,” the man said. “The rules are quite clear.”
“There has to be a loophole, right? There’s always a loophole,” you said.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking briefly to you before returning to focus on Grace. “There is a provision. Should another party volunteer to take your place in the hunt, you may be excused from participation.”
“I’ll do it,” you said with no hesitation.
Heads turned, suddenly finding you far more interesting than they had a moment ago.
Grace didn’t move, but the corner of her mouth did. A smirk, small and meant only for you.
The Lawyer turned fully to you this time, a calculating look in his eye. “I am not certain you understand what is at stake here. The families will hunt you. They will attempt to kill you before dawn. This is not a game of tag.”
“Figured that out on my own. My question is, what happens when they fail?”
Something shifted in his expression as if he was reassessing what he thought he knew about you. “If they fail, you get the seat.”
You nodded, flexing your hands in the restraints. “Has that ever happened before?”
He looked amused then. “No.”
“Alright.” You rolled your shoulders. “What happens to Grace?”
“Mrs. Le Domas will remain here until the hunt is complete.” He ignored Grace telling him to call her MacCaulley again. “Should you fail, her life is forfeit as well.”
Titus narrowed his gaze at you as if trying to decide if you were brave or stupid. Others murmured amongst each other, probably wondering the same thing.
Good. Let them wonder.
What none of them could have known was that you’d been trained for something like this. Not exactly this, of course. The program had been more…formal, less devil worshiping cult. You’d washed out in the psych eval. Something about having ‘concerning levels of comfort with violence’. Oops.
What they saw was a woman tied to a chair volunteering to die. What they were getting was something else entirely.
You caught Titus’ gaze across the room and held it. He didn’t look away. Interesting.
The Lawyer turned to Grace. “You must accept and acknowledge her as family. It is the only way this works.”
Grace didn’t even glance at you. “She’s my sister. Always has been.”
“Very well. Pernilla.”
A large woman with blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun, stepped forward and undid both of your bindings.
“Come forward,” he ordered as he stood at a podium and opened a large book. “Mrs. MacCaulley first.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Gracer muttered, taking the ancient quill from The Lawyer. She glanced around looking for ink.
The Lawyer gave her that same aggravating smile. “You must sign in blood, I’m afraid.”
She sneered as she pierced the tip of her finger and signed where instructed then she passed it to you. “Here please,” he indicated. You signed with a flourish, eyes never leaving the man in front of you. “Very good. You have now taken Mrs. Le Domas’ place in the hunt.”
A shiver of anticipation ran through you and you grinned. “Perfect.” These people had no idea what was coming for them.
You were directed back to your seats, Grace saying a quiet “thank you” to you as you went. You gave a small nod. She didn’t need to thank you, not for this, not for taking care of her. You’d done it for half of your life.
Pernilla stepped forward with a syringe. You wondered what was in it and if you’d been dosed with it before.
“I’ll do it.”
Titus’ voice cut through the silence. He stood and stepped forward, taking the syringe, dismissing the woman with a small nod. He leaned forward until his face was inches from yours. He was close enough now that you could see flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. Pretty.
The syringe hovered near the side of your neck and his other hand came up to rest against your jaw, keeping you in place. “I’m going to be the one to get you,” he said. His voice was low, meant for you alone, humming with dark anticipation.
You grinned again. “God, I hope so.”
Surprise flickered across his face, quick and genuine before the mask settled back into place. The needle slid in, cold spreading through your veins. The last thing you saw was Titus’ face, watching you with an expression you couldn’t read though you very much wanted to.
Then nothing.
***
You woke slowly, giving yourself a moment to gather your wits before you moved. The drug had left a chemical aftertaste in your mouth you desperately wanted to be rid of. Your limbs were heavy but your body was quickly shaking off whatever they had given you. You pushed yourself up, glancing around.
A fucking golf course. They’d dumped you on the green at the resort. Fuckers. You hated golf. Pushing yourself up, you stayed low as you bolted for the tree line. Your current position was too exposed, too open.
The forest was full but not particularly thick. It wouldn’t hide you for long. You kept to the darkest parts where even the cameras—because of course there were cameras—would have a hard time finding you. If they drugged you and dumped you without a weapon, you fully anticipated them using surveillance on you.
A building emerged from the trees. Small, utilitarian. A toolshed, maybe. A rock made quick work of the padlock and you let yourself inside.
There wasn’t much here, not that would help you anyway. You didn’t particularly wish to fight with garden shears but you would if needed. Finally, in the drawer of a worktable at the back of the room you found miscellaneous small tools. A claw hammer slid in a belt loop. Then you found a dull blade probably used to cut twine and the like. You doubted you could cut much with it, but it would stab just fine. You kept it in hand.
Neither weapon was ideal, but they were a start.
It didn’t take you long to find your way into the utility tunnels underneath the resort, one of the men hot on your heels. You left the door cracked behind you. Wouldn’t want him to get lost. You pressed yourself against the interior wall beside the door, knife reversed in your grip. His footfalls were unhurried, steady, belonging to someone who believed themselves to be the hunter rather than the hunted.
He stepped through the doorway wearing expensive clothes and a gold mask to cover his face. A curved blade rested on his shoulder.
You moved before he could register your presence.
The knife went into his throat just below the jaw, angled upward. You twisted as you pulled it free then stabbed again and again. Warm blood rushed over your knuckles as you knocked the mask from his face. His eyes found yours, wide and shocked. You smiled and gave him a wink before removing the blade one final time to watch the blood pulse from his veins with the fading rhythm of his heart.
You patted his chest and removed his weapon from his hand, leaving your pitiful knife to fall on his chest. His blade was beautiful, expertly crafted. Shorter than you would have liked but obviously that wouldn’t be much of an obstacle for you. You wiped the blood from the handle with the dead man’s shirt and disappeared back through the door onto the grounds.
***
In the surveillance room, the screens showed everything in high-definition. The spectators watched stunned. Madhu Rajan observed his brother’s summary execution in silent horror. His mouth opened, closed and he swallowed hard.
“Is…is she hunting us?” he finally asked.
The Lawyer stood with his hands clasped together, watching the screen with intense interest. “It would appear so.”
“Is she allowed to do that?”
The smaller man’s attention turned to him then. “Most assuredly. As your brother is no longer on the field, you are the next legal representative of your family, Mr. Rajan. Shall we?”
***
You entertained Chen Xing’s desire for conversation for approximately three minutes before slitting her throat. What she’d told you was interesting to be certain, but you didn’t know if you’d use the knowledge. If it wasn’t for Grace, you wouldn’t bother, but you would protect your sister at all costs. There was always a loophole.
You traded Rajan’s shorter blade for Chen Xing’s katana. The sword was the stronger option, longer and perfectly balanced. You’d driven it through the back of Ignatio’s head less than an hour later. You wondered if they’d run out of people or if it would just be a never ending loop of satanists until dawn.
You found the Danforths near the front gate. Perhaps they thought they could intercept you trying to escape. Titus carried a two-handed war hammer while his sister was armed with a flintlock pistol. They were bickering in a low tone.
They didn’t see you until you were already moving.
You came out of the tree line low and fast, swinging the katana in a short arc that ended with the edge of the blade pressed against the side of Titus’ neck.
“Don’t,” you said, and Ursula’s gun halted its upward swing.
Titus went very still, eyes narrowing.
“Where is my sister?” you asked.
Ursula ran her gaze over you. “Why would we tell you?”
You turned the blade, just scraping the surface of Titus’ skin. “Because If you don’t, I’ll kill him.”
She gave you a thin smile. “Go ahead. It just means I won’t have to share the seat when I kill you.”
You arched a brow and shifted your eyes back to Titus. “That was harsh. Tell me where my sister is.”
He tilted his head back slowly, well aware of how sharp the weapon at his throat was. His hazel eyes found yours. “I don’t feel like it.”
You grinned, the expression wild but genuine.
What happened next took less than three seconds, which was twice as long as it should have with your training. You dropped the katana from Titus’ neck, slid the hammer from your belt loop and threw it at Ursula hitting her temple. She crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
Titus looked at his sister. Then at you. Then back to his sister. You picked up the hammer and slipped it back in its resting place at your hip with a little shrug. “It’s not as big as yours but it gets the job done.”
The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly.
You turned to face him fully, the katana resting on your shoulder. “I like you, Titus Danforth. You’re sassy.” You let your eyes travel the length of him, taking inventory with deliberate slowness. “And hot as fuck.”
There was a flicker of surprise quickly replaced with something darker, more calculating. He lunged without telegraphing. Good form, actually. The kind of attack that might have worked on someone that wasn’t you. That hadn’t spent months learning to read body language at a microscopic level.
You sidestepped, the movement fluid, and when his momentum carried him past you, the point of your katana was waiting when he turned. “No, no. None of that, now.”
He pulled up short, sneering at the weapon resting against his chest. His breath came in heavy pants. “You going to kill me now?”
“There’s a loophole you know. Let’s us both get what we want.” Your voice was calm but the katana didn’t waver. “You should ask that lawyer. Let me know what you think.”
You stepped backward toward the tree line and faded into the shadows.
It was an hour or so later when Francesca El Caido found you kicked back with your feet on a table, sucker in your mouth. She appeared, screaming that she was going to kill you. You watched her line up a rocket launcher on her shoulder. You weren’t particularly worried as it was pointed in the wrong direction.
You stood slow, and cleared the distance between you while she screamed again and pulled the trigger. You dodged to the side to avoid the backdraft while still moving forward, bringing the sword up as you went. It caught her in the ribs before sliding up and into her heart. She gurgled a scream and fell to the floor.
You stepped over her body, adjusted the sucker in your mouth and kept moving.
***
Titus stared at his phone as he read The Lawyer’s response to his inquiry about the supposed loophole.
The bylaws are quite clear. In the event a target and a hunter agree to be united in matrimony according to the rules set forth, said hunter will be granted the high seat and the target and any designated family shall be granted clemency. The union must take place before dawn.
Titus read it twice. Then a third time.
He could have the seat. All of it. Not shared with his sister. And all he had to do was marry the only woman who had intrigued him in ages.
He slid his phone into his pocket and headed for the golf cart where Ursula was already waiting.
He drove them to the main building of the resort without a word, not really listening to anything his sister had to say, as he recalibrated his plan, his entire future.
He parked by the main door and hopped out to head into the lobby.
“Titus are you listening to me?” Ursula demanded. “We need to get to Grace. Use her as bait. She’s the only leverage—”
“Oh. I have a better idea.” Titus leaned over the front desk, picked up the house phone and pressed the button for the intercom system. “This is Titus Danforth.” His voice carried through the empty lobby, through the hallways to wherever you were. “I accept your proposal.”
Ursula stared at him with a baffled expression. “What just happened? What the hell did you do?”
The Lawyer appeared in the doorway, his arrival so sudden it was impossible to tell whether he’d been there all along or had simply decided that the moment required his presence.
“The hunt has concluded,” he announced. “Mr. Danforth is the winner provided he upholds his side of the arrangement. No harm is to come to Grace Le Domas or her sister.”
“Pretty sure she told you to call her MacCaulley. Several times in fact,” you said.
You walked into the lobby from one of the side hallways, katana resting on your shoulder once more, hammer lost or discarded. Your clothes were dark with other people’s blood.
The Lawyer inclined his head slightly. “My apologies. Miss MacCaulley then.”
Titus watched you, tracking your movement across the lobby. The corner of his mouth kicked up in a smirk, making him look every bit the man who had just been handed the world. “What should we call you then since she claimed you as her sister?” he asked.
You mirrored his expression with a tilt of your head. “That’s easy. You can call me yours.”