Page 10

CHAPTER 10

Malakai

The woods now look like something out of a twisted fever dream. Lanterns hang low from the trees, their flickering light contributing to the eerie atmosphere. The steady hum of low, dark music echoes through the night. A little away from this area, the abandoned building stands proud, the best setting for the climax of our little ritual.

It’s exactly the vibe I wanted—unnerving, intoxicating, and a little dangerous.

Perfect for the ritual.

I stand at the edge of the second clearing. This is a larger area—the place where everything is about to do down. I got here through a shortcut no one knows about, and now I'm watching as the Lambs filter in one by one. They’re all wide-eyed, nervous, trying too hard to look like they belong. Some of them glance at the lanterns like they’re pretty decorations. Idiots. They have no idea what they’re walking into.

And then there’s her.

When Raven steps into the clearing, her dark eyes dart around like she’s trying to map out every possible escape route. She’s wearing the white dress, the one Alex gave her, and it clings to her in all the right ways. She is too pure, too sweet. The kind of girl who doesn’t belong in a setting like this. And that’s exactly why she stands out. Why I want to catch her. Fuck, this will be fun .

She catches my eye, and for a moment, the rest of the world fades. There’s something in the way she looks at me—fear, maybe, but also defiance. Like she knows she’s in over her head but refuses to back down. It’s... intriguing.

“Raven,” I say, my voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

She stiffens but walks toward me, her chin lifted like she’s daring me to underestimate her. Good. Let her pretend she’s stronger than she is. It’ll make breaking her all the more satisfying.

“Where’s Alex?” she asks, her tone sharper than I expected.

“He’s not part of this.” I smirk, crossing my arms. “This is your show, Lamb.”

Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she glances around, her unease growing with every passing second.

“Relax,” I say, gesturing toward the long table set up near the center of the clearing. It’s covered in black velvet, a single ornate book resting in the middle. “All you have to do is sign the contract.”

“What contract?” she asks, wary.

I motion for one of the masked figures—Nate, of course—to step forward. He’s carrying a silver tray with a stack of papers and a pen resting on top. When he reaches us, he holds the tray out to her, his mask gleaming in the firelight.

“This contract,” I say, picking up the top sheet and holding it out to her. “Standard stuff. You consent to the ritual, agree to follow the rules, and acknowledge that you’re responsible for your own actions.”

She takes the paper, her hands trembling slightly as she skims the text. “What does this mean?” she asks, pointing to the line about injuries and death.

“Exactly what it says,” I reply, my smirk widening. “The Pantheon and the university aren’t liable for anything that happens during the ritual. It’s all on you.”

Her eyes narrow, and for a moment, I think she’s going to bolt. But then she glances back at the crowd, at the masked figures watching her, and I can see the calculation in her eyes. She’s weighing her options, realizing she doesn’t have any.

“Do I have to sign it?” she asks quietly, her voice almost drowned out by the music.

“Yes,” I say firmly, stepping closer. “If you don’t, you leave. And if you leave, Callahan’s out. No Pantheon, no connections, no hockey career. You want that on your conscience?”

Her jaw tightens, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. She looks down at the paper again, her expression conflicted, and for a second, I almost feel bad for her.

Almost.

“Just sign it, Raven,” I say, my voice softer this time. “It’s just a formality. Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

She doesn’t believe me—I can see it in her eyes—but she picks up the pen anyway. Her hand shakes as she scrawls her name at the bottom, the ink glistening in the firelight.

“There,” she says, a little snappier than I would have liked. "Happy?"

“Ecstatic,” I reply, snatching the paper from her and handing it back to Nate. “Welcome to the game.”

She glares at me, but there’s something else in her eyes—something she probably doesn’t even realize is there. Curiosity. Intrigue. Maybe even a little attraction.

I turn away before she can catch me smirking and motion for the next Lamb to step forward. The ritual’s just getting started, and I’ve got plans for her.

Big plans. Unlike last year. Goddammit, what a snoozefest that was!

I don't really want to think about it, but my mind drifts anyway, back to the last Gods and Lambs ritual.

And how fucking boring it was.

I exhale, rubbing a hand over my jaw. Last year had been the same old shit—rich boys playing gods, terrified girls playing lambs. The pledges had been desperate, the lambs had been easy to scare, and I’d done what I always did: dominate the game .

I’d chosen a girl, cornered her in the woods, whispered things in her ear that made her shiver, made her run just to see how far she’d go before she gave in.

She’d been pretty, I guess. Soft, like all the others. And when I caught her, she’d barely struggled.

That was the problem.

They never struggled.

They always let the fear take over too fast, always wilted the second they realized they weren’t in control. It was too fucking easy .

And easy?

Bores me.

I had spent half the night messing with the pledges instead—watching them stumble through the hunt, laughing as they tripped over themselves trying to prove they belonged in the Pantheon. I’d shoved one of them into a creek just because I could . I’d made another newbie hesitate just long enough to lose his Lamb to someone faster.

It had been amusing, sure, but it hadn’t been interesting . Nothing stood out. Nothing made me remember .

But this year? This year will be different. Because this year, Raven’s in the game. And she’s not like the others.

She isn’t soft . She's a girl-next-door, sure, but she isn’t someone looking for an excuse to be caught. She isn’t blindly following the rules of a game she doesn’t understand.

She’s fighting it.

Fighting me .

And fuck, it makes me hungry .

I smirk to myself, pushing off the railing, stretching my arms as I roll my shoulders.

Yeah.

Last year was forgettable, but this year will be anything but. This year, the hunt actually means something.

Because this time?—

I’m chasing someone worth catching.

She’s going to be here.

I exhale slowly, letting the thought settle in my bones. This abandoned building, this room, will see something special tonight. I can already picture it—Raven, trapped in this room, her dark eyes darting around, searching for a way out. But there won’t be one. Not tonight. Not with me standing in the doorway.

I drag my fingers over the wooden table, feeling the uneven surface beneath my touch. The place is a wreck—cracked walls, broken furniture, dust coating everything like a second skin. The kind of place that turns people inside out, makes them desperate. Perfect for what’s coming.

Soon, they’ll bring the Lambs here—blindfolded, panting, shaken from the hunt. And among them will be her .

Raven.

She’ll be here, sitting in this very room, trapped in my world. And once she’s inside, there won’t be a damn thing Alex can do to save her.

That spineless fucking coward. Or, should I say, the selfish, narcissistic nimrod? Hell, I'd rather pick the first option—the other's dangerously close to my own personality.

I grab an old wooden chair by the backrest and slam it onto the floor, watching as the legs splinter apart on impact. The sound echoes through the empty building—sharp, final.

That’s Alex. That’s what I’m going to do to him, piece by fucking piece.

I kneel down and snap one of the chair legs off, twisting until the wood cracks in my hands. Alex thinks he’s so goddamn special. Thinks he’s got what it takes to run with us . But he’s weak. He’s always been weak.

The first crack was at the party. I pushed, and he folded. Drugs, drinks, some random girl with her hands down his pants—it didn’t even take much. One night, and he threw away every self-righteous vow he ever swore.

I snap the second chair leg off, throwing it across the room.

The second crack? This ritual. The moment I told him to bring her , he hesitated, sure—but hesitation doesn’t mean shit if you still do what you’re told. And he did. He fucking did.

I pick up a broken piece of wood and run my thumb over the jagged edge.

The final crack will be when he realizes he’s lost. When he sees that Raven doesn’t belong to him anymore. When he watches her fall right into my hands.

I’ll destroy everything he clings to. His reputation. His future. Her .

Because the best way to break a man is to take the one thing he can’t stand to lose.

And Alex Callahan?

He just handed her to me on a fucking silver platter.