Nina's POV

When I woke up, 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.

Where the hell was I?

The room was dimly lit and cramped, and the smell was awful. Shadows sat hunched around me and I realized I wasn't alone. There were other people here with me.

Instinct told me to scream, but judging from the shaky breaths and sobs around me, I ruled it out as a terrible idea.

I turned to my right and whispered, “Where are we?”

A girl beside me jolted. She couldn't have been older than 17 and 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, but 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. Only they didn't care. They didn't even look at me.

We were herded like animals through a stone corridor, barefoot and bruised. And then, we stepped into hell.

People screamed, cheered and hollered from their seats. I stared up at them, at their painted faces and smug grins, making my blood turn to ice.

What in the name of —

“What is this?” I asked, feeling sick in my stomach.

“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. “If it's a hunt, then what are we doing here?”

“We are the prey.”

Time stopped.

What?

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

“You're kidding.” I laughed but it came out wrong. “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, assh*ole!" 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.

Fear, gut-wrenching fear, crawled up my spine but did something else: rage. Boiling, bitter, rage.

First, I was banished and now, I was going to be prey to psycho princes? Who the hell were they and who gave them the right to make me their prey?!

My fingers curled into fists. I was scared out of my damn mind, but if they thought I'd go down quietly, then 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. Some of the girls were crying, some frozen. Me? My heart was pounding so loudly 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 : I was going to get the hell out of here one way or another.

A trumpet blasted somewhere above, sharp and ceremonial, and 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 three men on horseback, dressed in armor that gleamed in the sunlight. They must be the princes the guards were walking about.

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

The girls around me trembled. One of them even 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 crowd cheered when the first prince waved, screamed when the second one, who had blood-red war paint streaked across his face, smiled, but they went dead silent at the third one.

Unlike the other two, he didn't wear armor. He was in black from head to toe. His face was obscured beneath a hood, but I saw his eyes. They were cold, sharp, and calculating.

No one needed to tell me who he was. It was HIM, the one the guards called the “cruel one.” I could feel it. He didn't look like he was here to chase or play or entertain. He was here to kill.

My breath hitched and my chest tightened. Everything in me screamed at me to run, but I couldn't. None of us could. The guards stood like walls behind us.

The hooded prince slowly scanned the crowd of girls like he was choosing. His gaze passed over me, then stilled. Our eyes locked, and I swore for just a second. I forgot how to breathe.

There was no mercy in his stare. No hunger either. It was cold and bottomless, like all he saw was a problem and not a prey.

I raised my chin slightly, swallowing my fear.

If he was expecting me to cower, then he could be my guest and go straight to hell.

The trumpets blared again. The announcer shouted something about rules and blood and honor, but I wasn't listening anymore because the prince hadn't stopped looking at me.

Now, I have a very bad feeling he's just chosen his problem : Me.