Baron leads me through the woods behind Samara’s villa. The dense trees cast shadows around us, surrounding the beams of light that blaze through the canopy, unlike the bleak sunless sky cast over the Alps. I stop just at the edge of the treeline, looking back at the last remnants of the villa’s warm glow and the blue hue of the ocean surrounding the cliffside like a cool hue.

He glances back. “We’re almost there.” He gestures into the trees

I swallow, keeping my voice steady. “Where are we going?”

Baron chuckles. “Questions might get you into trouble, doll. Just keep walking.”

I force myself to follow, ignoring the unease nagging at my gut. Maybe that was a stupid idea but the further we push into the woods, the more his movements twist around me, pulling me along like a line tying us together. Soon, all the sounds of the city disappear. Leaves crunch beneath us and the air grows crisp and sharp. My heart pounds as his pace slows, and he turns to watch me as that pit in my stomach grows.

“What are you planning to do unarmed, doll?” He nods to my balled fists, clenched tightly without realizing.

I flex my hands, trying to force out the tension with a sigh. “What are we doing here, Baron?”

He steps closer, his voice softening, but his eyes like ice, sending a shiver down my spine. “Delivering your final lesson.” His hand traces the scar on my sternum, his fingers cool against the jagged skin. “Do you know what this is?”

My brows push together. “A scar?”

“It’s our mark,” he corrects. “Ownership.” He takes a step towards me, his movements slow and measured. “When you set foot in the mines, you became a problem—our problem.” He reaches out to caress my face, and I hold my ground, keeping my eyes locked on him as he traces over my skin with a crude fascination. “This kept you alive, and it’s proof to every single person who even dares to touch you that you are ours. Not theirs, not Bane’s. Ours. We did this to break you out of the prison you were groomed into, but you’ve confused purpose with obsession.”

His voice tightens to a growl, a flicker of rage in his eyes when his eyes fall to the healing burns on my hands. “You’ve spent your whole life in war—killing, hunting, surviving for everyone else but yourself. You’re seeing enemies where you should see friends, because you don’t know who to trust and when to hold back. It’s easier to fight than it is to think.”

He peels off his overcoat, revealing the tight black short sleeves underneath. It clings to his body, defining the light tone of his chest that’s covered in a sheen of sweat. He tosses his coat on a nearby branch, followed by his boots.

“You only know how to fight and Bane took the credit. He stole that from you.” He kicks his boots to the side. “Every battle you won, all the skills that kept you alive, they weren’t from Bane. They were from you.” His eyes flick away, lowering to the ground like he’s said something he wasn’t supposed to. “I wanted to leave you in that school. This wasn’t supposed to happen…but then I heard you cry for help. My help.”

My cheeks burn as he speaks, the words digging under my skin. He pulls out a knife, holding it between us.

“This lesson is about restraint,” he says, handing it to me. “You’ve learned to trust us, but you’re still wary of everything else. You need to fight, but you also need to know when to stop.”

I take the knife, its weight heavy, unfamiliar, yet it feels surprisingly comfortable, molding easily in my hand. “What are you doing?”

“Not me. You.” Baron steps back, creeping towards the edges for the trees. For a minute, I think he might abandon me there until he speaks again with a dark edge in his voice.

“You’re going to do what you’ve wanted since you woke up in the mines. You’re going to fight, and this time you’re going to win.” His grin is sharp and chilling, and his hands flex around his holster, subconsciously searching for the knife that’s now in my hands.

I take a step back, my head slowly shaking as I try to understand what the hell he’s asking me to do. He can’t seriously want me to hurt him. I’d wanted to before, but the look in his eyes isn’t telling me he wants to play a game. He wants a hunt.

He drinks in my hesitation, and a wolfish grin spreads on his face. “Are you scared, doll?”

I hesitate, gripping the knife harder as a chill creeps up my spine. “No,” I whisper.

His brow lifts, taking in my lie like it’s been written on my body. “Lesson number one,” he scolds. “You should know better.”

“Yes,” I admit.

“Good. You should be.” His head turns to the knife, my fingers flattened around it to avoid touching it more than I have to. “You’re not Bane’s toy. If you want to take Acacia, then you’re going to stop acting like his shadow and start acting like yourself. You’re going to fight like your life depends on it, because it will.”

“And if I don’t want to?” I challenge.

He grins, taking a step back toward the treeline. “You do.”

The darkness engulfs him until he disappears completely from my sight, his footsteps fade in with the chirping crickets and birds. Leaves rustle in the wind and the branches sway, but I can feel it—that feeling of being watched. Hunted. The feeling of Baron’s eyes on me. My eyes lock on every small movement in the treeline, and every subtle noise of the forest life has me on edge, my head whipping around to face him, but he’s not there.

Calm down, Helena. This is what he wants.

A chill prickles at my skin and I crouch low to the ground, my hand wrapping around Baron’s blade.

“I’m waiting, Helena,” his voice calls, taunting me from the darkness.

My heart races, my breath quickens. The thrill and nerves blur together, every beat of my pulse begging me to move.

“You wanted to kill us all this time,” he says, right behind me. I whip around to find only darkness greeting and a dark chuckle fills the air. “What’s stopping you? Do you think I might win? I’m unarmed, you know. Unprotected. A wounded animal.”

“Stop messing with me!” I shout, frustration quickly building hot in my cheeks. “Come out where I can see you.”

He hums in response, mocking me. “Why would I do that when I can watch you just…like…this?”

A twig snaps, and I whip around again, but the bastard is gone again, hiding just out of my sight. The feeling never leaves, prickling at the back of my neck, where I swear he’s lurking. He’s watching me, my short panicked breaths. His taunts flare anger deep into my chest, but it’s daunting in a way I’ve never felt. Consuming. He’s watching me, hunting me, and I can’t help but want to be caught. He wants to kill me, and that fear coils around me and pools between my legs.

“Wrong way,” he croons, his breath ghosting across my ear. “You’re a hunter, Helena. You know better. Come find me. Hunt me…if you can.”

Adrenaline flares, but I force myself to calm down, to listen.

He wants to hunt me. He wants me to hunt him, to fight for my life.

I shut my eyes, taking in a deep breath through my nose as I force the desperate storm in my head to calm and the forest noise to quieten. It all slows. The wind and the insects tune out, until all I can hear are my even breaths and the crackle of a nearby fire.

Then, there—a shuffle of dirt behind me.

Alright then. Let’s fight.

I lunge, crashing into him. We hit the ground hard, and my heart races as I see his face, obscured by a white wolf skull. It’s been cut in half, only covering his mouth while his eyes are shrouded by a black hood.

He throws me off, disappearing in seconds. “You hesitated.”

“I was startled.”

“You can’t afford that with Acacia,” he scolds. “You need to act, don’t think.”

I push myself up to my feet, eyes scanning through the trees for any movement. “Analyzing a fight isn’t a weakness. That’s what I was taught.”

“You were taught wrong,” his voice booms. “Acacia doesn’t raise soldiers; they raise sacrifices. Stop overthinking and fight. Use your instincts.”

His voice shifts again, coming from a different direction. “You’ve survived weeks of torture. You walked out of two tons of rock with a bullet in your leg and you fought off a pack of wolves. That’s the person you need to be. Find a way to win.”

He falls silent, until all I can hear are the soft sounds of the woods and the rapid beats in my chest. He is right, I realize. Maybe it was anger or spite that kept me going for so long, but it was still me that kept going. No one controls me anymore.

The feeling feels like a weight disappearing from my body, clearing every single thought I have as I crouch and stalk into the woods. My hand tightens around the leather handle of Baron’s blade, and my eyes zero in on the shadows of the woods, watching how they meld into each other. I move between each tree like camouflage, not allowing myself to be seen in the open for longer than a second. I can feel him watching me.

I close my eyes, sucking in deep breaths.

In. Out.

Breathe.

I know he’s watching me, waiting, but I’ll be ready this time.

The leaves are scattered on the ground, tinged orange and brown amongst the evergreen trees and bushes nearby. I’m too noticeable. Black would’ve made it easier to blend into the shadows like Baron, but my green top only makes me stick out among the carpet of red and orange. He’ll find me too easily.

I keep myself low to the ground, creeping along the tree trunks until my eyes settle on a small evergreen bush just barely taller than me. A twig snaps behind me and a bolt of adrenaline shocks my system, and before I know it, I’m pushing the thin branches aside, camouflaging myself in the brush.

In. Out.

Another twig snaps, closer. I imagine him wandering through the woods with his mask, his body low to the ground as he moves about like an animal stalking its prey. Is his heart pounding like mine? Does he like being hunted, waiting for me to catch him.

My body tenses when I hear footsteps, soft but audible in the leaves scattered on the ground, and then I see him, inches from me. His head swivels about, his body turning to check each of his surroundings and never leaving his back turned for too long.

I smile.

In. Out.

My pulse steadies, and I wait, pulling a string from my shoe and balling it into my hands as he moves unknowingly towards me.

Then, with a quick move, I lunge, pouncing from behind the bush. He whips around, but not in time, and I tackle him to the ground.

I manage to pin his hands by his head, grinning with satisfaction that he doesn’t return. He throws me off easily, retaliating by gripping my throat, a twisted smile spreading across his face behind his mask.

“You can do better than that.”

I break his hold, ripping his hand from my throat and looping my shoelace around his wrists. His eyes widen in shock and I move quickly, pinning him on his back and tying his wrists together, pressing the knife against his throat, the blade just grazing his skin. And still, he fucking smiles, like an animal baring his teeth that makes anger and desire bubble in my throat.

His eyes darken and he leans against the blade. “Do it! Stop hesitating!”

The rage boils over.

I scream, slicing through his shirt and carving a line across his chest. He sucks in a breath, bracing it with a terrifying glint in his eyes. His hips shift from under me as I straddle him, his cock pressing into me as I bring down the knife again.

I drive it into his throat, carving the same lines he did to me right at its base as he grunts and tenses his tight muscles in pain. I press harder, carving a crude, small star just below his throat. He groans, and I slap a bloody hand over his mouth, silencing him.

I think I finally understand the sadistic fascination in Baron’s eyes every time he visited my cell, and every scar he delivered to me, I copied onto him with that same look and I know he sees it. I can feel it under me, when his cock pulses against my thigh that makes me want to cut him deeper.

When I carve the final line, I release him, my chest heaving with exertion and the quickly receding adrenaline.

He props himself up, watching me, his fingers trailing along the cut. “That’s my girl.” Before I can react, he throws me off with a force that sends me back onto the dirt. I land hard, but he’s on me in seconds, tearing at my clothes until I’m bare on the hard ground.

“Come on, doll,” he growls, his voice raw and possessive. “You think a little blood is going to slow me down?”

I don’t hesitate. With a swift kick, I knock him onto his back, and I’m on him again, forcing him to the ground. I rip his clothes off like he did with mine, yanking his pants off and freeing his cock in a rough tug and wrap my hand around his hard shaft. His eyes are locked up mine, his chest tight, rising and falling quickly with his ragged breaths. I drag my hand along his chest, centering directly on the line where I’d cut him. It’s scorching and his heart is pounding in his chest. I can see how badly he wants me, how hard he is restraining himself from fighting back.

I don’t give him time to taunt me. My fingers find his throat, squeezing, pressing as I quickly lower myself onto him with a soft moan.

He gasps, a low, guttural sound, moaning when I squeeze, digging my palm into the fresh cut on his throat. “Ah, fuck, Helena.” His hips buck against mine, urging me on. “That’s it… make it hurt.”

I raise my hips, bouncing and grinding on him. His moans mix with mine, soft gasps leaving his lips when my grip around his throat tightens. Then, something snaps and his hands are free, flying to my hips and slamming down quickly on top of him, shocking my system with sudden flashes of pleasure as he grinds onto my clit.

“You’re mine,” he growls. His hand moves over mine on his throat, forcing me to squeeze him tighter. “Say it!”

A sharp moan escapes my lips, my vision blurring as his name slips out. “Arik…” I dig my nails into his throat, a wild thrill rising in me.

“Do it, Helena,” he pants. “Scream my name. Tell everyone who’s fucking you.”

“Arik!” I cry. It echoes throughout the trees and I’m sure someone can hear us nearby, but I can’t care. I want them to hear it too.

“I’m yours,” I breathe, my body tightening along with that coil in my gut. “Fuck, Arik, I’m yours. Please.”

He angles his hips upward and when he draws my hips down again, I fall apart. I scream out his name like I’m crying for breath, my orgasm washing over me in waves as he forces me to ride it while he pulls me into a deep kiss.

“Oh god,” he groans into my mouth. His hips stutter and then still deep inside me as his cum fills me.

For a few breaths, there’s only silence, broken by the sound of our heavy breathing. I roll off him, lying back, staring up at the canopy of trees until my heart stops racing.

After a moment, Baron props himself up, his fingers tracing along my arms. I tilt my head up, my mouth open to ask him what he’s doing but he’s not looking at me. He’s watching his own movements, his eyes soft as he watches the pads of his fingers skate across my skin with a lazy smile on his face.

My heart skips a beat. He’s never looked at me like that. I don’t think anyone has ever looked at me like that, or touched me so carefully. Intimately. Especially not Baron.

The moment leaves as quick as it came, before I can say anything, he pulls back, replacing his softer smile with one of malice and twisted amusement.

“The next time we fuck you, it’ll be over Alastor’s dead body,” he murmurs, his voice dark, but not as weighted as it used to be. “Forget what they did to you. This is you, doll.” His eyes drift to my chest, then back up to me. “I am sorry…if that means anything.”

I nod, taking his hand as he helps me to my feet. It feels different this time. There’s an air around me that feels warmer, maybe because I can feel how close we are to finding Alastor, that this could all end tomorrow or the day after. Whatever part of me they broke, I don’t want it back. I feel stronger. I feel like I’m a person now, and I’ll gladly show Alastor who I am

When I smile, I see his eyes light up, and he leads me back the way we came in silence. The faint glow of the city comes into view through the trees and we make it to the edge of Samara’s villa. I stop at the edge of the treeline, watching the city and the bay beyond the cliffside.

“Thank you…for everything.”

He huffs, flashing me a wolfish grin. “Hold off on that. I’ll want you to say it on your knees, in front of the other two.”

I shake my head, pushing ahead to hide my smile, but as I clear the treeline, I see a mass of black rising in the distance. I bolt out into the open, and my eyes widen when I see a plume of black smoke curling up into the sky at the edge of the city.

“What is that?” I call out to Baron. He runs after me, his eyes turned up at the sky. “I’ve never seen smoke like that.”

Baron’s expression shifts, his face darkening as he stares at the rising smoke. “We need to go.”

Then the smell hits me, putrid and sweet like a bed of flowers trying to cover up an animal.

“Oh my god…”

He doesn’t wait, grabbing my hand and quickly pulling me inside the villa. He bursts through the doors with a loud slam, his boots bounding on the sleek hardwood as he rounds into the living room.

“We have a huge problem.”

They don’t answer, their eyes locked on the TV blaring news in Italian.

I glance at Castor and Samara gathered inches in front of the screen with wide eyes. They don’t even seem to notice we’re back. Then look at the screen and I pale. There, on the TV, Alastor’s face fills the screen, his expression pushed together in concern as he speaks frantically to the reporter in front of the street we were on, only now it’s a wasteland, cobblestone and shops torn apart by bombs.

The news anchor fills the screen again, his voice grim as he speaks in Italian before it pans again to the people responsible—a star inside a circle burned into the sidewalk and then images flash on the screen of me, Baron and Castor and the words ‘WANTED’ underneath it.