Page 169

Only a monster can create another monster. And that’s exactly who I’ve become.

Sibby takes off after Francesca, a nursery rhyme echoing across the forest. Zade takes a step forward, then pauses to glance back at me, only the scar slashing through his white eye and the side of his mouth visible beneath the black hood.

“You look absolutely divine dressed in wolves’ clothing, but don’t think I won’t tear them from your body the second he’s dead. Enjoy your hunt, little mouse. You won’t be the only predator on the loose.”

Warmth spreads throughout my stomach, dropping low just as his eyes do, giving me one last heated look before turning and taking off after Rocco.

I’ve told him some of the things Francesca’s lovely brother has done to me. By the time the last breath leaves his body, he won’t have a drop of blood left inside him. And for the first time, I’m not ashamed that I find pleasure out of another’s death.

Biting my lip, I head into the forest. The temperature drops as I silently make my way through, foliage crunching beneath my feet. A sharp thrill is zinging throughout my body, yet I keep my pace quick but steady.

Xavier is confident he’ll get away, but with how deep these woods are, we’re confident none of them will find their way out before we catch up to them.

The wind blowing through leaves, birds chirping, and the critters rustling in the brush fade as my focus sharpens on what I do need to hear—branches snapping, the crunch of leaves beneath footsteps, and heavy breathing.

There’s a clear impression of his boot to my left, so I turn and follow after his prints.

About fifteen tense minutes pass, and I alternate between a steady jog and walking. There are no maze walls keeping them confined in one area, so it’ll be easy for them to get lost.

Xavier believes he can find his way out, but it would take him hours, and that’s without getting turned around.

A sudden, loud screech startles me, sending birds tearing through the branches, followed by evil cackling. Sounds like Francesca’s scream, and if she’s not already hit, she came very close to it.

I exhale shakily, my heart racing and sweat gathering at the base of my spine.

Another scream from Francesca, the tail end cutting off abruptly—presumably from Sibby silencing her somehow. In that single moment, meant to be hidden beneath her scream, was a twig cracking.

My head snaps in the direction, off to my left, where I see a flash of a hand before it disappears behind a tree trunk.

He’s about thirty feet ahead of me.

Clenching my jaw, I raise my crossbow and take aim. The second he steps out from that tree, no matter which direction he heads, I’ll have a perfect shot.

Does he feel like a fly caught in the spider’s web? Trapped where he stands while the black widow stalks from afar.

It’s exhilarating. The heady feeling pulsating between my thighs, causing my cheeks to flush and my lids to droop.

My focus sharpens until Xavier’s fear is all I can see, smell, and taste. How helpless he must feel, knowing his end is nearing.

“How does it feel?” I ask, just loud enough for him to hear.

Far off in the distance, another shout rings out, this time from Rocco. But they’re so far away, it barely penetrates the shroud wrapped around him and me.

He doesn’t answer, possibly holding on to hope that I don’t know exactly where he is. As if every breath he takes can’t be felt through the strings of my web.

“Does it make you sick with fear?” I persist, taking another silent step. A sliver of his elbow peeks out, and I smile. “Is your heart pounding so hard, it feels like it’s going to come out of your throat?”

The wind picks up, lashing through my hair and creating crooked branches out of the cinnamon strands.

When it dies, I inhale deeply.

“Smell that, Xavier?”

He shifts, his elbow disappearing and a few leaves crunching under his feet.

“Smells like death.”

A stillness settles over us. So thick, even the birds quieten. And then he’s jumping out from the tree. My finger is milliseconds from pressing the trigger when he abruptly pivots, heading the opposite direction, attempting to get me to fire the arrow prematurely.