Chapter 1

1

OLIVIER

T his time the letter wasn't left in the office in the South Wing. No, it was left on the counter in the library, in my usual spot, between my pens and pencils, my worn-out books, and wads of paper used for notes I no longer needed but was too lazy to actually throw away.

Like some uninvited guest at a party, all neat and adorned with a bronze-coloured silk lint that kept the rolled piece of paper in perfect shape. Waiting to be unraveled, the paper waiting to be uncurled, the letters waiting to be read.

I remember just standing there for a minute, admiring the curly writing, identical to the first time, yet different somehow. Not the same hand, of that I was sure. The words though, they were a carbon-copy of the promise I'd already experienced before. A night in the woods.

My heart thumped wildly in my chest, revealing my trepidation.

I had been chosen again? Why?

I hadn't learned a lot from the Wicked Chase and its true intentions, aside from the cruel game and the hunt. Yes, I had learned the rules. The elimination. But I didn't know who the other participants were, who had won. I didn't even know who the others were, who had won, nor did I know the identity of the masked guys who hunted us down.

Except for one.

I didn't know his name, but Golden Mask was one of the elite, that much was certain. He walked around school like he owned the place and made more trouble than anyone else. He was loud, abhorrent and annoying. Perhaps that was one the reasons why I'd sometimes steal glances toward the middle of the canteen, and wonder.

I wondered if I'd been part of the elite, had my father not left us. How would it feel to be feared and admired? To sit my ass down in the heart of our small community every single day? To know that other students feared me, just because my parents had a bigger fortune or more power in their self-proclaimed democracy?

They at least had enough power to create this hellscape in the woods. To form a fraternity of some kind. Rumours were a bitch, a twist of reality, a creation of doubt. And there were stories. Of secret parties and witchcraft, here, within the walls of Monterrey Castle. Which was ridiculous, because I'd been here for a full school year now and I'd never seen such activity around me.

However… it left me wondering. As I took in those similar words of loyalty, respect, tradition and sacrifice, I couldn't help the delicious tremor to flood my veins.The thought of bronze and sinfulness. The cruel hint of a smile. Inky-black eyes behind a gorgeous Venetian mask.

I shook it off with a scoff. Of course my brain told me I shouldn't go, that it was a classic case of a "no-no", but my heart…I couldn't help myself from all the questions that ghosted in my mind.

Was Bronze Mask the one who had been in the library before? If so, did he and I know each other? Was he the one who'd left me the invite? Did he want me to participate once more, despite the original rules?

Was there a message I failed to notice?

That was it. Two weeks later I was once more lined up with three other participants, followed by the hunt of a lifetime. Only this time, when Bronze Mask attacked me with his sling and balls until I fell to the ground, grunting from the pain, he got careless.

"Are you alright?" He had asked, sounding genuinely worried.

It was the only thing he had said the entire night, before his proverbial mask slipped back into place once I had nodded and confirmed that I was fine. And with his voice in my mind I'd let him corner me before he chased me back to the beginning of the game, back to where the older man and his cane were waiting, back to where I got transported back to the castle. Back to where my driver was waiting to take me home for the holidays.

His voice stayed in my mind.

And barely a week later, in the library, I heard that voice once more. Husky, god, he sounded so husky. And low. A drawl, despite the joke he was making. It was a rainy afternoon, and with sports practice being cancelled, the place was more crowded than usual. Tables were taken, and I was solicited all the time by students, asking me to look up books or give them general information on content. This was the only place where I felt others treated me without their usual, newfound hostility.

First I caught sight of Gold Tooth, whose name I still didn't know. He swaggered inside the opulent space, accompanied by a group of three of his friends. I gave them a quick glance, then dipped my gaze immediately, not wanting to look for any trouble. It's an unwritten rule here at Saint-Laurent to stick by the people in your own league. Don't go below, and certainly don't go over.

" Salut, Monsieur Vincent. " Gold Tooth greeted the chief of the library, the ancient Monsieur Vincent. I could feel his eyes on me though. I felt myself shrink back into my seat, eyes casted down. They made me feel uncomfortable. Next to me, the conversation audibly continued, the shaky, high-pitched voice of Monsieur Vincent giving instructions on where to find the books these elite boys were apparently looking for. I kept on typing on my computer, searching for nothing in particular, but needing to look busy. Until…

"Olivier?" Monsieur Vincent asked. Sweeping my head in his direction, I stared at his iron-framed glasses and watery blue eyes, his skin parchment and his fine lips tightly pressed together. Disapproving. I must have missed the first part of that phrase.

"Uhm, oui ?" I asked sheepishly, ignoring that husky chuckle coming from right in front of me. Fuck, they were still standing there. And he…Bronze Mask, the guy who was still staring at me, dark eyes speared into mine as if he was attempting to sneak inside my brain. Probably to understand why I had participated at the games in the first place.

He was nothing like Theo. There was no softness in his gaze, no chubby, friendly cheeks, no sympathetic smile of sorts. No, this guy wore his face with cold perfection. A jaw that could cut glass, a long straight nose that poured down into a set of full, plush lips. A dimple in his chin. My gaze flicked back up and my face flushed with embarrassment. I'd been checking him out and from the looks of it, he had seen. I cleared my throat, then quickly stood up, almost sending all the papers on my desk flying, but not before I'd stolen another glance at those eyes. Large and dark, still piercing with that intensive gaze.

Do you believe in love at first sight?

I don't remember much of the events after that. All I know is that Monsieur Vincent had me do the walk of shame through the entire library in search of a book that turned out to be absent from where it should be, despite the computer notification, with all four guys hot on my tail. I never exchanged a word with them, and after they left and I returned to my desk, the invitation was waiting for me in plain sight.

Bronze Mask wanted me back in the Wicked Chase. But when I stood across from that same guy a few weeks later in his full glory, right before Pentecote Break, he didn't mention our encounter in the library.

That night I lasted a little less than an hour. Although I didn't follow the trail but stayed in the shadows instead, I felt on edge. My mind was weaving with thoughts and memories, with "what if's" of all sorts. And then… something snapped inside of me and I couldn't take it anymore. I was anxious. Afraid of what would happen if he caught me. Afraid of what would happen if he didn't. I never was much of a group person, never felt like I fit in. And that's always been okay. Because my father might have left a closet of broken dreams and a ghost in the shape of my little sister when he left, taking her, but we belonged. Mom and I, and Theo.

It made me once more wonder why I'd decided to sign that NDA in the first place. What had I wanted to achieve?

And why was I there again tonight? I told myself it was become of the change of rules in tonight's Chase. A chance to choose—last for two hours in the woods and go home with a bag of money. Or become a brother.

Eitherway, it's a chance to change your life. To obtain everything you wish for. That's what the older man with the cane told us before. He had been the one always instructing us. The one telling us that we signed an NDA and therefore gave away our permission to be treated as it pleased the others.

Brothers , he called them. Hungry brothers. A shiver runs through my body at the words of choice, at the memory of blond hair and dark, inquisitive eyes. Hungry brothers.

I wondered if there really would be a pot of gold waiting for me at the other side of the rainbow. Regardless, it was worth a shot.

"O-li-vier…" someone singsongs from somewhere behind me, and I flinch at the sound, instantly brought back to the present, at the recognition of that voice.

"Salut, Monsieur Vincent." The way he'd greeted the ancient librarian. That voice .

Gold Tooth. Or should I say, Golden Mask. My head swivels around as I stare into the inky-black air, unsure of where the sound exactly came from. The rustle of a leaf, the unfamiliar sound of an animal. I shiver, then indecisively look around in an attempt to hide but unsure where to go. The entire forest looks ominous in its obscurity, despite the gentle, pleasant breeze. It feels like it has been used to distract me fromhis turn real danger, appearing mercilessly.

More rippling sounds, followed by his taunt. "Where are you going, baby boy? You know he'll come for you, right?"

Why do you keep on finding me? I want to snarl. Don't you have your own victim to haunt?

I take a few steps in a further attempt to hide, but hesitancy stops me in my tracks. Where do I go?

Left, right, east, west.

Tik tok. Tik tok.

A chuckle. "You know he'll come chasing you down, slinging his balls into your back and causing you to stumble and fall."

He will. I remember exactly how they hit me before, hurting me badly. It's yet another reason why I shouldn't have come here tonight. Although he did ask me if I was alright.

Pathetic. I inwardly snort at myself. One second was all it took. Apparently I am that superficial that the only reason I'm participating at the Wicked Chase is to hopefully get the attention of the handsome, blond man who took my breath away those weeks ago in the library.

Because Bronze Mask is the most handsome guy I've ever seen. My chest clenches with a misplaced feeling of guilt, though we both know that Theo has moved on since the last time I saw him back home. It has been over a year now, and he is spending his summer holidays in the US, which means I won't see him the remainder of August once I get home.

If I get home.

"Stop being so dramatic, you fool," I grumble inwardly at myself, but the thought makes my brain stutter.

Someone flashes by me on the trail and my feet stumble, unsure of where to go. That's not Golden Mask. Speaking of that bastard…I turn over my shoulder and peer into the darkness.

Nothing.

"H-hello?" Comes a sound from the trail. It's a participant. "I'm here!" He yells, voice sounding loud and uncontrolled. His large eyes stare my way, the upper part of his face blanketed by the same dark velvet as I am wearing—the masks they give us during every Chase. "Dad?" The participant holds a hand above his eyes as if shielding his sight from the sun, and I realize my feet must have taken me toward the trail, because we are slowly approaching each other. He's staggering, swaying his hips as if he's had too much to drink, and his eyes flutter wildly as if he needs to work hard to focus his gaze and actually see me.

"Not your Dad, sorry," I reply sheepishly, half expecting him to laugh. He doesn't, instead just blinks again.

"Then where is he?" He asks.

I shrug, then look around, as if I really expect some old man to make his magical appearance through the obsidian forest. My own dad, perhaps… "Sorry, dude." I turn back to face him, and he stumbles, practically falling face flat on the trail. My hands shoot out. "Hey, are you okay?"

He shakes his head fervently. " Oui, oui . I am—I am just going to keep on walking then." He staggers away, slowly placing one wobbly foot in front of the other, taking a right at the dead end of the trail. I follow him safely from a distance, worried about his welfare. A series of loud honks, followed by a howl of excitement and a squeal kills the tense silence violently, making me jump. My heart rate flies up, the organ rattling wildly in my chest. In front of me, the participant lets out a yelp and presses his hands against his ears.

"Stop that noise!" He shouts. "Whoever's playing, stop it!"

He really is out of it, though the real question is, who drugged him? He turns his gaze to the dense forest on our right, then lets out an audible gasp. And then…he runs away, unusually fast for someone in his state, or perhaps whatever scares him was substantially frightening. That…my throat locks up and my stomach tightens in sudden anticipation. Fuck. I know it's the latter even before I turn my face to the sight. Unless it's some wild boar that freaked him the hell out?

It's not.

It's the horse.

Scraping a foot on the ground as if impatiently waiting for his master to encourage him to move, it has appeared out of the darkness. Waiting. Bronze Mask sits on the saddle, his body straight and proud, the black cloak elegantly flung over his wide shoulders, chest and legs. His face is obscured with the Venetian mask I've come to recognize since he wears it during every game. Its curves are lightly tilted on the side and make his dark eyes look feline. So, so beautiful, even in his graceful disguise. My heart races in my chest, knees shaking both with anticipation and fear.

"During the Chase, you may be subjected to physical violence-with no lasting injuries-as well as being drugged, tied up or even used for the brother's sexual pleasure. You agreed to this."

Those are the exact words they use before every game. So far I have only experienced violence with no lasting injuries. But being drugged? Being tied up? I shiver at the thought. Being used for Bronze Mask's sexual pleasure? A treacherous shiver crawls through my veins and with my eyes still on the refined mask, I remember exactly what he looks like underneath.

He tilts his head and continues to stare at me, as if waiting for me to make a run. As if expecting for me to make a run. It's what I did the past two times. Driven to madness with fear, all common sense that these guys are fellow students, that we're all in the same college for fuck's sake, tossed overboard the moment that horse started to gallop.

Though tonight there is a difference from the other two times and I intend to use it to my advantage, to see shock in those dark, feline eyes. Because I know who he is and I will show him that I have no fear. My knees nearly buckle at the thought and I clear my throat, inwardly encouraging myself to stand tall.

"I know who you are," I snarl and I tilt my chin as if to make a statement, ignoring the way my voice trembles. "And I'm not afraid of you."

He doesn't speak, just keeps on staring.

"I don't know what personal game of fuckery you are playing with me, inviting me back and all that shit, but this is the last time I am participating," I continue. This time my voice only shakes a little, making me feel smug. I can do this. "I?—"

"Then why are you?" He interrupts with that now familiar huskiness and drawl. It catches me off guard. Snapping my mouth shut, I process his question, confusion growing by the second. My bravado slinks away.

"Then why am I what?" I finally ask.

My question pleases him. I can see it from the way he drags his lips into a small smile. I inwardly swear at myself for having taken the bait. Stretching a gloved hand, he reaches it out to caress the horse's flank. The movement brings a strange flutter in my stomach. "You could have refused, you know," he says, his attention on his dark mare as he continues to pet the animal. "You could have declined the invitation." His gaze flicks up, trapping mine with those dark eyes.

He lifts his hand to adjust his hood, revealing a strand of blond hair and a glitter in his ear. If I had any doubt before, that now melts away like snow in the sun. Yes. He's definitely the guy from the library. Golden Masks's friend. Tall. Blond hair that is full and messy on the top, with the sides trimmed. Jewellry is against college rules, but I couldn't help but notice the helix piercing in the shape of a tiny bronze cuff that he wears. So much for not staring. He's handsome, sith eyes that form a surprising contrast to his light hair. They are dark, large and adorned by thick eye lashes. And those full lips…

They now quirk up as he catches my wandering stare. I flush, then look away. "I should have refused," I admit.

"Then why didn't you?" The horse bristles and moves around, restless. It wants to run, of that I'm sure. Perhaps it wants me to run too. Bronze Mask clicks his tongue and the horse takes a step forward, making me flinch and take three steps back. "Take it easy," he tutts, and I wonder who he means, the horse or me, and nudges his chin toward the trees behind me. "We still have plenty of time."

Someone cries out around us, the sound heart-wrenching ferocious. My body replies with a shiver.

"Oops," Bronze Mask smirks. "Seems like my brother has found his prey." He cocks his head. "Still not afraid?"

" Espèce de merde, " I hiss. The cry has turned into a sob, and it makes my stomach churn. "You think you can just take and take, that you can just do what the fuck you what."

"I know why you came here tonight," he says, sounding self-righteous.

Flipping him the bird, I start moving toward the strangled sound, unable to stand by and do nothing when someone else is clearly in this much distress. Regardless of the rules of this stupid game.

"You came to see me tonight, mon loup ," he calls out after me. His words make me freeze, despite my good intentions. Anger and confusion battle for dominance inside the pit of my stomach, both emotions leaving a bitter aftertaste as they climb up and toward my throat, where I try to swallow it away. When I don't reply, Bronze Mask lets out a satisfied, raspy chuckle. "You're right. You and I have met before. I wanted you to know who was coming for you, little wolf. And I saw the way you looked at me in the library. Starved, like you haven't had a good meal for a long time."

Clip-clop. The horse approaches me, and I tell myself to fucking move already. We're barely three sentences in and he's already enraging me. And him, that psycho out there with his knife, the other two who are hunting in the woods. And us, four participants, for coming out here in the first place. For allowing this to happen. The entire scenario makes me furious.

Clip-clop.

"Don't come any closer," I snarl, gaze still fixed away from him and onto the trail, where no more shouts are uttered. It's like they are gone, the earlier trepidation replaced by something far more ominous. Desolation, because I'm here in an empty forest. Fear, drenched in the oxygen around me. But I refuse to inhale it, refuse to be eliminated.

The horse stops walking and I fist my hands, unsure and very determined at the same time for what's about to come. This hasn't happened before. This conversation, these questions. This confrontation . Well, if he wants to fight me, I sure as fuck won't back off. I have been playing volleyball for as long as I can remember, and I'm fit enough to at least be a worthy opponent.

"No? What will happen if I do? Are you going to hurt me?" He taunts, and when I look over my shoulder, I catch him swinging the leather sling loosely around his wrist, surely to provoke me into doing something stupid such as proving him right.

And perhaps I would have. Perhaps I would have shoved my bashfulness aside and would have lunged forward and right at him, pulled him off his horse and…what? Hit him? Kiss him?

But I don't do anything like that. Because another loud cry makes the forest tremble, and before my brain registers what the hell is going on, I've already spun around and made my way toward the sound of fear.