Page 60 of Mine To Hunt

It excites me deeply because that fear shows she feels the threat in the air, even if she does not know it is coming from me. The high peaking as I watch her every step. That paranoia makes her even more perfect for what I have planned.

And then I notice the drunk man. Before she does. He slips out of the deeper shadow of the alley, his steps uneven, balance already compromised. The way he moves tells me everything. Careless, emboldened by alcohol, scanning for something easy. His attention fixes on her, sharp and sudden, like he’s spotted an opening he has no right to take.

I feel the disruption immediately. This wasn’t accounted for. Tonight had a shape to it. A sequence. Every detail considered. The timing mattered. She mattered. And now this man is walking into the middle of it, unaware that he’s stepped somewhere he doesn’t belong.

He reaches for her. He grabs her arm roughly, my irritation turns into a cold, calculated rage. He touches her breast with one hand, squeezing as if he has any right to her body, while his other hand twists harshly in her hair, pulling her head back. She struggles against him, her voice breaking with fear as she shouts for him to stop.

My hand slips inside my coat, closing around the weight I know so well. I measure the distance, the angle, the time it would take to end this before it becomes messier than it already is.

Then she surprises me.

She reacts fast. Faster than I expected. Grabbing what’s within reach and striking him hard enough to make him stumble back, stunned. The sound echoes briefly, then fades. He retreats, disoriented, clutching at himself as she scrambles away.

I don’t move. The plan has shifted. Not broken. Just altered.

And she has revealed something new. The moment shifts something deep inside me, turning my rage into a sharp intrigue that heightens the high even further. I observe her not as the fragile prey I first labeled her, but as something sharp and reactive, capable of lashing out when cornered.

She is feisty, I think to myself in a way that feels just right in my head. Her spirit doesn't make me go soft. It pulls me in deeper, turning my twisted excitement into real obsession.

She pushes back when cornered. That makes her perfect for me, a real challenge that will feel even better when I finally crush her will.

I let her slip away, watching as she bolts into the night toward her house. Her shape fades in the dark, a blend of raw fear and stubborn grit that only makes her more tempting. The rush inside me stays strong, content for now. Releasing her drags out the game, cranking up the thrill to a whole new level.

Now, I shift my focus to the drunk guy. He's hurt bad, freaking out as he staggers off, clutching his bleeding head and swearing under his breath.

“You shouldn’t have touched her.” I murmur, trailing him slow and steady. My feet make no sound, closing in without hurry. He ducks into a pitch-black alley, figuring the shadows will hide him. But I'm steps away, invisible until the moment strikes.

I clamp down on his shoulder hard, whipping him around like he's nothing. His eyes bulge with sheer horror as he stares up at me. "What the hell? Who are you? Back off!" He stammers, his words slurred and shaky from the pain and terror, scrambling to pull away.

I don't answer his frantic questions. Instead, I pull out the syringe loaded with Mercy's venom. The one I saved just for her.

"This was for someone much more special." I say in a flat, icy tone as I jab the needle straight into his neck. "But you ruined my night. So now it's all yours."

The poison hits fast, like wildfire racing through his blood. His face twists in pure panic as the burning spreads, tearing at his veins from the inside.

"What the hell did you stick in me?" He screams, clawing at his neck like that could fix it.

The rush floods back through me, that twisted joy of taking back control. I haul him deeper into the dark alley, away from any prying eyes.

"You put your hands on her." I tell him, my voice calm but buzzing with excitement. "That was your big mistake."

He fights back weakly, but the venom is already draining his strength. "Please! I didn't know she was yours. Let me go! I won't say a word to anyone!" He begs, his voice cracking like glass.

I tune out his whining and grab his right hand. The one that dared to grope her chest. I yank each finger out of its socket slowly, feeling the snap and tear of the ligaments. It's like music, sending a wave of pure bliss through me. Blood starts dripping from the mangled joints as he howls in agony.

"This hand crossed a line." I explain coolly, like I'm teaching him a lesson. "Now it pays the full price."

Tears pour down his face, mixing with sweat. "Stop! Please! I swear I'll never do it again!" He sobs, his whole body shaking like a leaf.

Next, I take his left hand. The one that yanked her hair so roughly. I crush each finger one by one, the bones cracking with sharp pops that echo in the night. His pain hits me like a drug, fueling my high as he keeps pleading.

"Why me? What did I do to deserve this? Ahh, it hurts too much." He whimpers, barely able to speak.

"You grabbed her hair like it was yours to control." I reply evenly, the thrill building with every break. "You stole a moment that belongs only to me."

His sobs turn into ragged gasps now, the venom making everything worse. "I had no idea! Just kill me already. End this nightmare!" He chokes out, snot and tears staining his shirt.

I pull out my knife and start on his chest, slicing away layers of skin and muscle bit by bit. I expose his ribs in a careful pattern, drawing out the pain as blood gushes out, blending with the venom's chaos. He thrashes wildly, gasping between screams.