Page 15

Chapter 15

Raven

I ’m jostled awake by the hands of two women I’ve never seen. Both wear simple black attire from head to toe and have their hair pinned up into buns. Eyes vacant of any emotion whatsoever. They pull at my arms, coaxing me to stand, and when I don’t immediately cooperate, one gets down on her knees next to me.

“I know you don’t want to listen. I also know that you don’t want to be here. Neither do we, but we don’t have a choice. Please cooperate with us so that we all live past this morning. Please come with us. We aren’t the ones that will hurt you,” the one with blonde hair and green eyes says.

Her eyes plead with me. Begging me to listen so that she doesn’t get killed. What kind of fucking people are we dealing with here that they have to worry about that kind of shit. I carefully get to my feet and let them lead me out of the basement. When I look around, I realize that most of the captives that were in here are already gone.

“Where are you taking me?” I whisper to the blonde.

She looks at me but doesn’t say a word. All I get in response is a finger to the lips, telling me to keep quiet. When we enter the main space again, I see many milling about, but none of them pay us any mind while the ladies lead me to a back bedroom. Once inside, they lock the door behind us and visibly relax.

“We’re here to prepare you for The Hunt. We don’t know a lot, but we’ll answer what we can. Now we need you to bathe so that you are clean and ready for what's coming,” the other woman says.

I keep silent right away. I don’t even know what to say. Or ask for that matter. I follow Blondie into the bathroom, where they have a piping hot tub of water waiting for me. It looks like heaven and smells even better. I quickly step into the scalding liquid and sink completely in without being told to. I let the water completely submerge me from head to toe, and I revel in the pain and relief it brings.

When I come up for a breath. Both of the women are kneeling next to the tub with bottles of soap and rags to clean me. They refuse to let me do it myself and insist on washing every inch of my body until I’m scrubbed clean.

“Now please step out, and we’ll start preparing you for tonight. We have picturesto recreate and an outfit provided by your handlers.”

“What’s The Hunt?” I ask, speaking for the first time since getting in this room.

They both look at each other and have a silent conversation with their eyes. When they turn back to me, I see pity shining through bright as day. They take turns explaining what The Hunt is, and I’m appalled by all of it.

The Hunt is a tradition in the Black family. One where they all find a victim and get them all dolled up just to chase them through Sica Hollow on Christmas Eve. It’s a huge family affair, and they all take part. Even the women. Their victims never leave the woods and forever become part of the lore that haunts those woods. One by one, each captive gets fucked, tortured, and murdered for fun.

Absolutely fucking sickening.

I don’t know why someone, or even a whole family of someone’s, would do this shit to innocent people. What in the fuck is wrong with them? But I have something up my sleeve that apparently they don’t know about me.

I’m an avid hiker and have visited this patch of woods countless times since moving to the area. It’s only about two and a half hours from my house and the only decent spot to get some hiking in. It’s not the best by any means, but there are enough steep embankments and trails that it’s easy to get lost, and damn is it fun to find your way out.

There are cabins littered around the forest where a few older people are holed up for the rest of their days. I would know because I’ve visited them when lost and need a little direction. One of them though, I would rather kill than see again. Handsy old fuck.

If the Black brothers plan to chase me through Sica, then they're going to have a hell of a surprise when I get the better of them. Hope they know the trails better than I do.

I’m snapped out of my haze and racing thoughts when Blondie finishes drying my body and hair, and the other one leads me back to the bedroom. An outfit lays on the bed, waiting for me.

“What the fuck is that?” I ponder aloud, eyeing the barely there scraps of fabric.

“That would be the outfit chosen for you by Mr. Dorian, ma’am. You need to be in this exact outfit, with your hair and makeup done before dinner time. At that point, you will eat with the others before being led out to the tree line. From there, we don’t know exactly what happens, and that is why we're still employed here.”

I nod my head in understanding. I get it. I really do. These two women are only trying their damnedest to stay alive, and who am I to judge? Who am I to try and give them a hard time about any of this?

“Okay. Let’s fucking do this,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster.

There isn’t much to be had, but I’ll be damned if I go out crying like a little bitch. These men are going to fight with their hands. And if they do happen to win this fight. Then I’ll go down swinging, and they will never forget me.

Fucking never.

Bring it on bitches.