Page 23 of Hunting Gianna (Stalkers in the Woods #3)

Chapter Fifteen

Gianna

The forest almost sighs as we enter the dense trees.

Every step feels electric, my feet barely making a sound on the pine needles and rotting leaves.

Behind me, Knox is already tuned in. His mask gleams dully when he turns his head, catching fragments of light through the canopy.

I should be terrified. I should be sick with what we're about to do.

Instead, my blood sings with anticipation, a high, sweet note that drowns out everything else.

So much for being terrified about being murdered. I almost roll my eyes at myself, but the truth is… Knox is making me feel alive in ways I’ve never been before.

Isn’t that every woman’s dream? A man who makes them feel life, passionately, wholly?

Well, I’m done fighting it. I am going to explore these feelings and it starts with ending Bradley.

"There," Knox whispers, pointing to a broken twig dangling by threads of bark. "He went this way."

I nod, following his gaze to where the underbrush is trampled, leaves smeared with mud. I smile, imagining his panicked breathing, the sweat soaking through his designer shirt. I wonder if his perfectly styled hair is ruined yet.

"You're enjoying this," Knox says, his voice amused behind the mask.

"Maybe," I admit, the word hanging between us like a confession. "Is that fucked up?"

He laughs, low and warm. "Welcome to my world, little bird."

We move deeper into the trees and the dark is so poignant I struggle to see in front of me. Knox seems to flow through the shadows, not even a single misstep. I find myself mimicking him, rolling my feet from heel to toe, slowing my breathing to match the rhythm of the forest.

Behind us, the lights of the lodge have long disappeared. Ahead lies only darkness and the promise of something I've wanted for so long without knowing it.

It strikes me then—the deal I made with Knox. No more killing. But here I am, hunting a man through the woods like an animal. I should feel guilty or afraid, but all I feel is a strange sort of clarity, as if I'm finally seeing the world without a filter.

"I don’t know how I feel," I whisper, not slowing my pace. "I’ve never… never even hurt a fly."

Knox's hand brushes the small of my back, a touch so light I almost imagine it. "Well, Gianna, this is what you wanted. The truth of who you are is always in the parts of you that you don’t want to confront. But fear not, baby girl, it’s not just you. This is us."

Us. The word sinks into me, warm and dangerous.

"He was horrible to me, but does he deserve to die?"

“Yes.” The word is a rasp.

“I definitely am starting to believe that.”

Knox's breathing changes, becomes deeper, more deliberate. "And how does that make you feel right now?"

I consider the question, turning it over like a smooth stone. "Powerful," I finally answer. "Like I'm taking back something he stole."

The forest floor dips suddenly, leading us into a shallow ravine.

The moonlight is stronger here, painting everything in silver and shadow.

I spot it before Knox does—a flash of white fabric against a fallen log about thirty yards ahead.

Brad, huddled against the rotting wood, breath clouding in the cold air.

Knox spots him a second later, a predatory stillness washing over him. He gestures for me to stop, then points to the left. I understand immediately—we'll circle, cut off his escape.

I move quietly, heart hammering against my ribs, not from fear but from the electric thrill of the hunt.

It finally makes sense why Knox likes to hunt me.

This is amazing. Freeing. Primal. The ground is softer here, muddy from yesterday's rain.

My shoes sink slightly with each step, but I don't care.

All I care about is the look on Brad's face when he realizes there's nowhere to run.

I reach my position just as Knox begins his approach from the other side. Brad doesn't see us yet. He's too busy checking his phone, the blue light illuminating his face in ghostly hues. Fucking idiot. Even now, he thinks technology will save him. He curses when he realizes there’ no reception.

Knox moves like a shadow given form, slipping from tree to tree until he's directly behind Brad. I hold my breath, watching as Knox gathers himself, muscles coiled tight. Then he launches forward, a blur of motion that ends with Brad face-down in the mud, Knox's knee driving into his spine.

The scream that tears from Brad's throat is loud, raw with terror. He thrashes wildly, but Knox pins him effortlessly, twisting one arm behind his back until he howls.

"Please," Brad gasps, mud spattering his lips. "I have money. I'll give you whatever you want, just—"

His words cut off as he sees me stepping into the moonlight. His eyes widen.

"Gianna, I thought you were joking. I didn’t actually think you were fucking insane. What the fuck? Is this—" He struggles against Knox's grip, face contorting. "Is this your boyfriend? Jesus Christ, you psycho bitch, call him off!"

Knox laughs, the sound muffled behind his mask. "That's not how you talk to a lady."

To punctuate his point, Knox slams Brad's face into the ground. Blood sprays from his nose, dark against the pale mud. When Knox lets him up again, Brad's eyes are wild, darting between us.

"Look, Gianna, I'm sorry, okay? Whatever I did—"

"Whatever you did?" My voice comes out softer than I expect, almost gentle. "You know exactly what you did."

Brad's face shifts, a calculating look replacing the fear for just a moment. "We had problems, sure, but this? This is insane. You need help, baby."

The old nickname hits me like a slap. I step closer, crouching to meet his eyes. "You hit me when I wouldn't suck your dick. You showed me pictures of other women and told me they were better than me. You made me feel worthless, and you enjoyed it."

Knox's head tilts, the mask regarding Brad with alien curiosity.

Then, methodically, he begins to hit him.

Not wild, angry blows, but precise strikes—to the ribs, the kidney, the back of the head.

Brad's screams grow weaker with each impact, until he's just whimpering, blood bubbling from his split lip.

When Knox finally stops, Brad is barely conscious, held upright only by Knox's grip on his collar. The forest is silent except for Brad's wet, labored breathing and the soft patter of blood dripping onto dead leaves.

Knox reaches into his jacket and pulls out a hunting knife. The blade catches the moonlight, throwing silver reflections across Brad's terrified face. Knox holds it out to me, handle first.

"Your choice, little bird," he says softly. "Should he live or die?"

I stare at the knife, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my fingertips. This is it—the moment where I decide who I really am.

The age old question… who am I and who do I want to be?

Brad's eyes lock with mine, pleading, wet with tears and snot and blood. "Please," he whispers. "Gianna, please."

I reach for the knife, my hand steadier than I expected. The handle is warm from Knox's grip, the blade perfectly balanced in my palm. Power surges through me, and a little flutter beats in my chest.

Time stretches as I stand there, poised between what I was and what I might become.

Brad's eyes follow the blade as I test its edge with my thumb, drawing a thin line of blood that wells up black in the moonlight.

Behind his split lips, his teeth chatter with fear, and I realize I've never seen him afraid before.

He was always so goddamn confident—so certain of his right to take whatever he wanted from me. Not anymore. Not ever again.

"Gianna, baby, think about what you're doing," Brad wheezes through bloodied teeth. "This isn't you. You're not violent. You're sweet and kind—that's why I loved you."

A memory flashes through me: standing in the bathroom of our apartment, pressing a cold washcloth to my cheekbone where his ring had caught the skin.

He'd been drinking, angry that I'd worn a dress he thought was too revealing to a friend's birthday dinner.

The next morning he'd brought me flowers, told me he was sorry, that he just loved me so much it made him crazy sometimes.

I crouch down, bringing the knife close to his face. "You never loved me. You loved owning me."

Knox shifts his weight behind Brad, keeping him pinned but giving me room to work. The mask reveals nothing, but I can feel his eyes on me, patient and curious.

"That's not true," Brad stammers, a tremor running through his body. "We had something special. I know I made mistakes—"

"Mistakes?" The word tastes like acid. "You called them learning opportunities, remember? Like when you made me watch you fuck that stewardess in our bed. A learning opportunity to show me how a real woman takes a man."

His eyes widen, darting to Knox and back to me. "I was drunk. I didn't mean those things. People change, Gianna. I've changed."

I laugh, the sound hollow and strange in the quiet forest. "So have I."

He tries once more, voice rising to a desperate pitch. "Please, I have money. I'll give you anything. We can work this out like adults. You don't want to throw your life away over—"

"My life?" I interrupt, pressing the knife tip against his throat, just enough to dimple the skin. "You stole years of it already. Made me believe I was nothing without you. That no one else would ever want me."

"That's not—"

"Shut up." My voice is steady now, cold as steel. "I don't care what you have to say anymore."

I think of all the nights I cried myself to sleep. All the times I apologized for things that weren't my fault. All the ways I made myself smaller just to fit the box he built for me.

The knife moves almost of its own accord, slipping down from his throat to his stomach. I drive it in with a force that surprises even me, the blade piercing fabric and flesh with a sick, wet sound. Brad's eyes bulge, his mouth opening in a perfect O of shock.