Skylar's Pov

Just when I found a clear path, they found me.

Hunters.

Massive, muscled rogue hunters, their sharp amber eyes glinting through the trees like warm fire, their movements as quiet as shadows.

They didn't look like they'd want to sit down for tea.

“Look what we have here… A wolf.” One of them hissed in an odd accent.

I took a step back. “Evening, fellas.”

“Evening, little lady. You look a bit lost. Join us. We'll show you the way.” He ran his tongue over his lips and I almost hurled.

“Don't you think it's a bit late for that?” I asked, taking note of my surroundings. It was nearly dark but if I run, I might just be able to escape.

“Not at all.” He smirked.

Shit.

I turned in my heels to run but they were faster.

A hand tugged at my shirt and I screamed.

“Let go of me!” I elbowed my assailant but the hit wasn't enough to get him off me.

He twisted my arm behind me and dug his knees into my back. “You're quite the fighter, aren't you, you little shit!”

“Why don't you let me go and find out?” I struggled against his weight.

“Look at you squirming like a bug.” He whispered close to my ears.

“Let's gut this one. Her fur will cost a fortune.”

“No. She doesn't smell like a wolf.”

I froze.

No. They can't know.

“She'll make good prey for the hunting festival.”

“No…” I whispered.

“Wait till the king hears this.”

“No!”

A sharp blow to my head sent me spiralling into the darkness.

When I came to, I was surrounded by darkness. My head felt like someone had slammed it against a wall repeatedly.

I groaned, lifting myself off the cold, filthy floor. Everything was spinning. My mouth was dry, my wrists ached, and there was dried blood on my arm.

Great.

Where the hell was I?

The room was dark and cramped. And the smell was God awful — sweat, piss, and despair. Shadows sat hunched around me. Other girls. Maybe ten or fifteen of them. Some were shaking, others just blank.

“What is this?” I asked, my voice hoarse, my throat was dry like I'd swallowed ash.

A girl beside me jolted. She couldn't have been older than 17. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. “They took us,” she mumbled, her eyes distant. “We're slaves now.”

I stared at her, waiting for the punchline. None came.

“Slaves?” I repeated, my voice rising. “As in, actual slaves?”

Before she could answer or maybe before I could completely lose my mind, the door slammed open and blinding light flooded in. I flinched

Guards. Big, angry, and fully armed guards rushed in.

One of them shouted, "Move!"

"Okay, okay! Hands off!" I snapped, swatting away a hand that shoved me upright. "God, ever heard of personal space?"

They didn't care. They didn't even look at me. We were herded like animals through a stone corridor, barefoot, bruised, and terrified. The girl in front of me stumbled. I caught her before she hit the ground.

And then, we stepped into hell.

An arena.

Like, a literal arena.

Bleachers, people screaming and cheering and hollering. I stared up at them, at their painted faces and smug grins, and felt my stomach turn.

“What is this?” I asked the air, even though I already knew the answer. Nothing good happens in places like this.

“It's the Hunting Ceremony,” someone muttered behind me.

I turned to her slowly. “I'm sorry, what ceremony?”

She didn't meet my eyes. “The hunt. It's tradition.”

“Right.” My voice cracked. “So, where are the prey?”

“We are.”

“What?”

Time stopped.

I didn't breathe for a full five seconds. My mouth opened but no sound came out.

“You're kidding.” My laugh came out wrong. Sharp, broken. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Only she wasn't. The guards were already forcing us into the arena pit. One of them knocked me to my knees.

"Watch it, asshole!" I snapped, twisting away but he didn't even flinch.

Then I heard them talking.

"The princes are joining today."

"Even the cruel one?" Another asked.

"Especially him. You know how he is — doesn't play, doesn't chase. Just kill."

My body went ice cold.

There was fear, real gut-wrenching fear, but there was something else crawling up my spine now too : rage. Boiling, bitter, bone-deep rage. How dare they? Who the hell gave them the right?

I clenched my fists. I was scared out of my damn mind but if they thought I'd go down quietly, they picked the wrong girl.

I may be prey but I'll go down biting.

The arena gates slammed shut behind us.

We were standing in the center like trophies lined up for display — barefoot, bruised, some crying, some frozen. Me? My heart was pounding so loud I could barely hear the crowd anymore.

I kept my chin high, even though my knees were shaking. I refused to be some broken girl in their sick little game. I didn't know what the hell they meant by "hunt", or how many princes they were throwing at us but one thing was clear.

We were not leaving here the same.

If we left at all.

A trumpet blasted somewhere above, sharp and ceremonial. The crowd hushed. A voice echoed across the arena, polished and theatrical.

"Presenting the Royal Heirs of the Blood Hunt!"

What now?

The giant gates on the other side of the arena creaked open. Dust swirled. Light flooded in and out came five men on horseback, dressed in armours that gleamed like my nightmares.

Each of them were tall, dangerous, and smirking like this was just a game to them.

The girls around me trembled. One dropped to her knees, screaming.

I didn't.

I stared. Hard. Memorizing their faces. If this was the day I died, then I wanted to know who to haunt first.

The first prince waved like we were some festival parade. The second one had blood-red war paint streaked across his face. And the third one came out.

The crowd went dead silent.

He didn't wear armour. Just black. Head to toe. No house colours. No smile. No interest in the ceremony. His face was obscured beneath a hood, but I saw his eyes. They were cold, sharp, and calculating.

That was HIM.

The ruthless one.

I could feel it.

He wasn't there to chase. Or play. Or entertain.

He was here to kill.

My breath hitched and my chest tightened.

Everything in me screamed : Run. But I couldn't. None of us could. The guards stood like walls behind us.

The hooded prince slowly scammed the crowd of girls. Like he was choosing.

His gaze passed over me then stilled.

Our eyes locked and I swear for just a second, I forgot how to breathe.

There was no mercy in his stare. No hunger either. Just... silence. Cold and bottomless like he didn't see prey. He saw a problem.

I raised my chin slightly, swallowing my fear. If he was expecting me to cower, he could go to hell.

But something flickered in his expression. Interest?

No. Amusement.

As if I'd just knowingly challenged a god.

Great.

The trumpet blared again. The announcer shouted something about rules and blood and honour but I wasn't listening anymore.

Because the prince hadn't stopped looking at me.

And I had a very bad feeling he'd just chosen his prey.

Me.