Chapter 37

37 Chapter 37 The Hunter Springs

The Trap

Faye’s POV

The stolen blade felt solid in my palm as I pressed deeper into the shadows of the moss-covered stone. My fingers wrapped around the handle with desperate precision, the metal warm from my grip even as cold rain dripped steadily from the rocky overhang above

The children remained motionless in their cramped hiding spot, backs flush against the damp boulder. Their faces had gone ashen, but not one of them dared to breathe too loudly. Terror had taught them silence faster than any lesson could.

They had learned to survive in mere hours.

Kim crouched nearest to the edge, his small frame tense with readiness. Beside him, Jeffrey clutched his own weapon with surprising steadiness. The

Alpha-blooded boy was no bigger than my waist, yet

mud and dried blood streaked across his young face

like war paint. His eyes held a sharpness that belonged on a warrior, not a child.

Both boys gripped their blades with the kind of focus that made my chest ache. These weren’t toys meant for small hands, but they wielded them like they understood exactly what death looked like.

The forest whispered around us with sounds that didn’t belong. Footsteps moved through wet undergrowth with calculated precision. Leaves crunched under boots that stepped with purpose, not panic. Each sound carried the weight of trained movement, deliberate and patient.

These weren’t the chaotic stumbles of desperate searchers. They had found us hours ago. Now they were simply positioning themselves like pieces on a game board.

Earlier, these same voices had faded into the distance.

I had foolishly hoped they had moved on. Instead, they had circled back with reinforcements.

Low murmurs drifted between the trees, too soft for

me to decode but rhythmic enough to suggest coordination. Not the rough shouts of mercenaries or the careless chatter of common raiders. These

whispers carried the controlled cadence of military training.

Professional killers.

My pulse hammered against my throat as realization struck. Elite trackers. The kind that specialized in hunting supernatural targets without leaving witnesses behind.

The Duskwood pack territory stretched just beyond these woods. Had they managed to follow our trail through the storm? Did they somehow connect us to the mansion fire?

My father would have his hands full dealing with the

blaze that should have consumed the entire

compound by now. He couldn’t possibly have time to send pursuit teams after us.

Could he?

I forced myself to exhale slowly, maintaining my grip on both the weapon and my composure.

According to the children, I had been unconscious for hours after dragging Hardy from the toxic smoke and flames. Long enough for the storm to weaken. Long enough for hunters to close the distance between us and death.

Kim had wanted to wake me immediately when the sounds began, but the others had insisted on letting me recover. They knew I was still weak from the rescue. They had waited, hoping the danger would pass naturally.

Instead, it had multiplied.

My gaze shifted to where Hardy lay hidden beneath our makeshift camouflage. Wet earth, fallen leaves, and ash from the fire covered his still form completely. We had coated his skin with thick mud to mask his scent, gambling that the mixture would confuse any supernatural senses tracking us.

It was our only option.

When I had tried to heal him earlier, my hands had found nothing wrong. No broken bones. No internal damage. No magical exhaustion. His body showed no

signs of injury that would explain his condition.

He appeared to be sleeping peacefully.

But something deeper held him captive. Something I couldn’t identify or fix.

The children had followed the same strategy, smearing mud across their skin and hair until they looked like part of the forest floor. Leaves and dirt clung to their small bodies like natural armor.

Kim caught my attention, his jaw tight with tension.

His lips moved silently. “Someone’s coming p>

Every nerve in my body snapped to attention.

I turned my head with careful slowness, catching a glimpse of shadow shifting between the tree trunks. No footfalls this time. No whispered coordination. Just an oppressive silence that pressed against us from every direction.

But the sensation remained unmistakable. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ.net

We had been discovered.

And our hunters weren’t alone.

A stick snapped in the underbrush.

“There you are p>

Ice shot through my veins. I spun toward the voice, instinctively placing myself between the children and whatever emerged from the foliage.

The thing that pushed through the branches barely qualified as human.

His teeth jutted from blackened gums like shards of broken stone. His mouth stretched into a grin that belonged in nightmares, lips cracked and peeling away from bone. Pale eyes stared from sunken sockets, clouded and lifeless as old glass. Matted hair hung in greasy ropes around his gaunt face, soaked with rain and stained with substances I didn’t want to identify.

Gray skin stretched tight over sharp bones, torn and scarred as if he had spent years clawing at himself.

His attention locked onto Jeffrey immediately.

“Perfect,” he wheezed, the twisted smile spreading wider. “Alpha blood runs strong in this one. What excellent luck we’ve stumbled into p>

I raised my blade, stepping forward to block his path to the children.

But I never got the chance to strike.

A blur of motion swept past me faster than thought.

Then came the sound. Wet. Final.

Blood splattered across my face in warm droplets.

The creature’s expression froze in confusion. His head tilted at an impossible angle, no longer connected to his shoulders.

His body crumpled to the muddy ground with a heavy thud. The children gasped in unison, frozen by shock.

Standing in the exact spot where the monster had been was Hardy.

His bare chest moved with slow, measured breaths.

Rain and mud streaked his skin, mixed with blood that clearly wasn’t his own. His right hand dangled at his side, fingers still tangled in the severed head’s matted hair. Scarlet drops fell steadily from his forearm into the earth below.

His eyes burned with an unnatural red light that cut through the dim forest like flames.

When his gaze found mine, it wasn’t relief I saw there. Not concern for my safety or gratitude that we were

alive.

It was something else entirely. Something that made my skin crawl.

The Hardy I knew was still present, but buried beneath layers of cold hunger. Predatory calculation had

replaced human warmth.

His lips curved upward in a smile that chilled my blood. It was the expression of something that had just sprung its own trap.

“Incorrect assumption,” he said, his voice carrying a deeper resonance than before.

With a wet sound, he released the severed head, letting it roll across the ground until it came to rest at the children’s feet like a macabre gift.

“I was never the one being hunted,” he continued, stepping forward as blood continued its steady drip

from his hands. “I was the hunter p>

His attention shifted toward the shadows where our other stalkers waited, thinking themselves hidden.

“And I’ve just discovered my lovely little prey p>

Morh Lucia

Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.