Page 75 of King of Malice

KING OF THE HUNT

TAMMY ANDRESEN

I just agreed to enter The Hunt…

I need a change.

A chance to break old patterns…

But maybe agreeing to be hunted wasn’t the best choice for making that happen.

Then again, ‘bad choice’ should be my middle name….

CHAPTER ONE

Cadence

“Players, set…”A speaker, from somewhere in the trees, crackles.

I look up into the canopy but can’t identify where the noise is coming from in the dark.

To my right, I hear the soft rustle of grass and crouch down, holding in my intake of breath. What was that? Who?

Fear tightens my limbs as I cock my head, listening to the darkness.

In the distance I hear masculine voices, grunting, calling out in barely contained aggression as they stomp their feet. I spread my hands out on the cool, damp ground as I take a long, slow breath of air.

The players must be on the other side of the field from me. It’s good to know I have that kind of head start, but I swear I feel the ground shake from their excitement.

This was a bad idea.

Which should not surprise me. I’m full of them. In fact, I’d say it’sthe story of my life. Cadence Bad Idea Miller. That ought to be my name.

I tremble, sinking down lower to the ground. Is now the time to run? Hide?

The organizers assured me this was perfectly safe, but it doesn’t feel safe at all. In fact, it feels like…

My worst nightmare come to life.

My fingers curl into the dirt. Maybe that’s what I need. To face the fear that has eaten at me my entire adult life so that I can move past it and be…

Normal?

The thought makes my lips curl, and I straighten back up. Who wants to be normal? Boring.

I scrub a hand over my cheeks, pushing the thoughts away. This exact tug of war is what gets me in trouble every time. Part of me craves a quieter life and the other, seeks conflict and chaos.

I can’t sit still ever. Can’t stay in a job or a place. And forget about a relationship. Most times a guy pisses me off, and then I blow the whole thing up.

Most of the time I create the explosion with words. A few times, it’s gotten physical.

But growing up in foster care isn’t exactly the place to learn about balanced, kind reactions when dealing with other people. There is little that’s normal, or stable, in that environment. It’s the jungle.

And you either learn to fight or die.

And before foster care, I lived with my crackhead mother—talk about instability. The shit I saw by the time I was six…

That thought makes me stand straight and tall. I’m a girl who knows how to fight. And that is what I do today. I fight.