Chapter 4

I hold my breath as I wait, hoping he's bluffing and will pass by me.

He's speaking out loud, but I can't see him. He's somewhere behind me, dangerously close.

What will he do if he catches me?

Greyson didn't actually say he'd kill me if he caught me, just that he'd kill me if I refused his trials. I wanted to refuse to run, but what choice did I have? Could The Exodus really be that bad? My father was involved with drugs, but I never associated it with the secret society. Sometimes it all blurred together so closely that I couldn't decide why he did half the shit he did.

Too many drugs. Too many murders. Too much money.

Not that I've ever complained about the copious amounts of cash filling our pockets, but he let it get to him. He changed after my mother died, losing who he was and becoming something entirely different.

A monster.

Sort of like Greyson, but the difference between them is I believe Greyson still owns his soul. My father sold himself to the devil long before he died. He lost any redeeming qualities he had when he forced Greyson to watch his father die. I understand how corrupt all of this is, but there's a line he crossed. He couldn't come back from it.

A twig snaps behind me. I've got my back against the tree, pushing my body against it to make myself as small as possible. My pulse is racing at a thousand beats a minute. I feel like I'll drop dead any second from the anticipation.

Greyson's footsteps are soft as he crosses the forest floor, closing in on my location.

Fuck.

Glancing around, I look for anything I can use. John taught me not to give up or accept defeat until I'm dead. There's always a chance if I'm still breathing. My eyes land on a stone a few feet away. If I want it, I'll have to leave the cover of the tree trunk, temporarily exposing myself to Greyson.

I listen, trying to pinpoint his location, but he's gone silent. He's stopped moving. Risking a glance to my left, I slide my head around the tree as far as I can without moving my feet.

Nothing.

He's not there. Turning in the opposite direction, I do it again.

Nothing again.

If I can't see him, there's a good chance he can't see me. It'll only take a second to grab the stone. Crouching, my knees crack as I bend, and I wince knowing I've broken the silence. There's still no movement or sign of him, so I use my legs to push my body forward, pouncing for the rock as quickly as I can. It's within my palms within a second, and I push off the ground, forcing my body back against the tree.

Clutching the rock to my chest and closing my eyes, I calm my breathing, exhaling through my mouth as slowly and quietly as I can manage. I've got this. I'm going to live through the night. I will not give up.

I decide to risk another glance around the other side of the tree, holding the rock tightly as I navigate around the tree trunk. He's gone.

He was bluffing, I silently laugh to myself, sighing in relief. Now, if I can trail him to the lodge, he won't find me until we're emerging through the other side of the forest. He won't be able to catch me if I'm behind him.

Turning back toward the direction of the lodge, I immediately faceplant into Greyson's chest. It's hard and warm, and he doesn't budge as I run into him.

I squeal, completely shocked at how close he managed to get without me knowing. I'm such a fucking idiot. How am I supposed to survive the night if I couldn't even hear him a foot away?

Self-defense sessions with John couldn't fix my stupidity.

Greyson's arm is raised above my head, resting on the tree trunk. His pupils are so dilated I can no longer see his brown irises. They've completely vanished within the darkness of the forest.

"Going somewhere?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

Chills roll down my spine as his breath hits my face. He's so fucking close. Too fucking close.

"T-to the lodge," I breathe, struggling to form words.

A smile breaks across his face, but it's not friendly. He's amused by my lack of survival skills. I didn't make it more than a few hundred yards into the forest before he found me. I thought if he passed by me I'd be able to get through, but he knew exactly what I was going to do. He knew before I did. That's why he's been studying me for so long.

Greyson Matthers knows me better than I know myself.

"I gave you a head start with the intention of letting you get at least halfway into the forest, but you couldn't resist the temptation to hide from me. You really are the perfect little prey, my sweet gazelle."

His mask moves slightly as he speaks. The neatly trimmed beard along his jaw is tight against his face, and I can see his jaw muscles flexing as he watches me. My thighs press together again on instinct, betraying my mind as my clit begins to pulse. I can feel the slickness of my pussy as my legs slide together. Some of the intensity is relieved with the pressure.

"I'm going to claim you long before we leave this forest," he says as he lowers his hand to my chin, grasping it between his fingers. "I'm going to wound you, then watch you run from me."

"What?" I gasp, taking a step back.

There's a flash at his side, catching a stray ray of moonlight being cast through the trees. My eyes fall to it, quickly realizing that he's holding a knife. Greyson's hand slides around the back of my neck, forcing me to stay where I am. I grip his wrist with one hand, then surprise him when I raise the stone in my hand, slamming it down on his temple. There's a loud crack as I connect with his skull, and he roars when he releases my neck. His fingers go straight to the spot where I struck, and blood wets them as he slides his fingertips across the broken flesh.

Twisting away from him while he's stunned, I drop the rock and push my legs forward, trying to get solid ground beneath me. Before I make it two steps away, there's a sharp pain shooting across my lower back. I cry out at the pain, wincing as Greyson's blade easily breaks through my dress and skin.

Stumbling, I fall to my hands and knees where the ground is rocky and uneven. Frustrated and hurt, I hiss as pebbles grind into my kneecaps. Greyson is on me within a second, wrapping his huge hand around my hair, then yanking me upright so I'm on my knees, back pressed against his legs. He pushes his right leg into where he cut me, making me yelp. His hand is holding my hair so tightly, I can't move beyond wrapping my hands around his wrist. I can't fight him with how hard he's keeping me here.

"The gazelle wounds the lion." He tsks, running his blade behind my ear, then down my neck.

It hurts, but he isn't breaking skin. He's pressing just hard enough to inflict pain, but he knows what he's doing. If he presses too hard, he'll cut my jugular and I'll bleed out within a minute. Pulling harder, he lifts my knees off the ground, but I can't get my feet underneath me. I'm levitating under his grasp, and my skull is on fire. Every strand of my hair is within his fingers.

"Let go of me," I gasp through ragged breaths. I can barely speak through the pain.

Greyson's voice is a little less controlled than before as he says, "I'm going to give you one more chance. Take it, and run, Isabelle. Let me chase you for real this time. Let me hunt you down. Give me the thrill of hunting down the pretty little gazelle I've chosen for tonight's feast."

"I'm not giving you anything," I spit, still trying to find my footing.

He laughs in the most menacing way, making my blood go ice-cold. "You will run from me, Isabelle. If you want to survive the night, you will run. "

"You'd kill me for something my father did?" There's no longer fear in my voice, only spite. "You'd torture me in the same way he did to you? Did you lose yourself that day? Was that the day you chose violence and darkness over everything else? Is your sole purpose for this revenge? Because if so, kill me now. Don't play these stupid fucking games with me, Greyson. I don't want it."

Greyson's knife presses into my neck harder, and I feel a warm trickle of blood fall, coating my chest and shoulder.

"Do it," I spit, daring him to end it now.

What's the point of living if he's this hell-bent on revenge? What kind of life will I have after tonight if I live to see tomorrow?

"No," he grunts as he releases my hair, pushing the back of my head forward so that I fall quickly. "These games are for your survival. Prove your worth and you'll become a lioness, strong and capable of the most wicked sins."

"That's not what I want." Catching my breath, I sit back on my heels, turning just enough to see him. "I'm not fucked up like you. "

"You aren't?" He cocks an eyebrow, flipping the blade between his fingers. "You didn't bat an eye the day your father died. And every day after that, you moved on as though it didn't happen. What kind of daddy's girl doesn't shed a tear when daddy dearest dies?"

Greyson circles me, glaring down at me as he steps. I watch him, not breaking eye contact through our masks. He has no idea what I've been through. He's making assumptions based on my life prior to my mother dying. No one knew how my father and his men treated me.

Beating me until I couldn't move, day after day. Breaking my bones until I couldn't leave the house, controlling me over and over again. Keeping me here, never letting me leave to begin a life of my own.

He has no idea what it's like to go from being someone's entire world to the scum on the bottom of their shoe. His father loved him when he died. That's the difference between us.

"You act as though we're the same," I say flatly.

Greyson stops walking and rotates his body to face me. "We aren't so different."

"We are nothing alike." My voice raises, losing patience. "You'd lose the ability to feel if you were beaten into submission."

His eyes soften a little, and he almost looks stunned. "Your ability to feel nothing makes you that much more perfect for the job."

A hysterical giggle leaves my throat. "I didn't realize this was a job interview."

Greyson's words don't waver as he says, "You certainly dressed for the occasion."

Looking down, I find that I'm covered in blood and dirt. There's moss on my dress, and it's wrinkled now. A single tear falls down my cheek. I can't hold back a small smile as I let out a laugh. I feel like I'm losing my mind.

Why am I feeling so many different things right now? I should be terrified and running for my life, but here I am, on the forest floor with one of the most dangerous men in the United States. There's sadness and grief hidden behind my mask. He can't see it, but I know he can feel it. The fear he instills within me leaves as quickly as it goes. How can he cut me from behind, breaking my skin as I flee, then make me feel the will to live?

Perhaps he isn't the problem. It's me. I am fucked up. He's fucked up in his own kind of way, his own kind of trauma. But no sane person could feel the slickness building between their legs while their life is in the hands of a monster. Maybe I'm further gone than I thought.

"Get up," Greyson demands, losing the friendliness in his voice. "We've got a long night ahead of us."

I stare at him for a moment, not moving as he adjusts his mask on his face. He blends in so well with the dark forest. The black pants and button-up shirt were purposefully chosen for the occasion. They provide him with both camouflage and a fierceness no one could match.

The way he's looking at me should be enough to get my legs going, but I can't get myself to move. I'm stuck in his trance, suddenly feeling desperate to touch him.

He must understand my conflict, because he puts his knife back in his pocket and steps closer, sliding his hands through mine as he pulls me to my feet. I inhale as his musky scent washes over me in a wave, filling me with need.

Greyson's breath is hot as he lowers his mouth to my ear. "There will be plenty of time for fucking, but right now you need to run, Isabelle."

Chills run down my spine, making me crane my neck against his lips. My body presses into his, and I immediately feel the hardness in his pants. He's so fucking hard. If we were different people, in another life or another time or place… I'd let this happen. But we aren't.

"Which direction?" I ask, pushing myself off of him as I struggle to stay in control.

His shoulders drop as I step away, and I realize he's releasing a breath he's been holding. Do I have more of an effect on him than I previously thought? Is he struggling with this as much as I am?

He can't be. He's Greyson fucking Matthers. People like him don't let themselves catch feelings, not when they know firsthand how dark the world really is.

"That way," he points behind me. "There's over three-fourths of a mile left."

"Okay," I swallow, looking away from him. "You want me to run?"

His eyes immediately darken at the mention of me running from him. The muscles in his shoulders tense up, and he looks larger than he did a few seconds ago.

"You'll run as fast as you can, and I'll hunt you down. You'll fight for your life to get away from me, but I'm going to catch you, Isabelle, and I'm going to make you drown."

The words come out as he intends, dark and malignant. Predatory instincts begin taking over, and he's reaching for his knife again. His calm demeanor changes so quickly that I can feel the electric charge between us. My heart starts back up, beating faster and faster with each passing second. I begin backing up, feeling his wrath as it reemerges.

"Run, Isabelle," he warns, flipping his knife open as he matches my backwards steps.