Page 11 of Run Little Fawn

But he ignores my questions, his voice infuriatingly calm as he continues. "A convincing alibi will be provided for your absence, and should you emerge from the Hunt as the victor, you will be able to go back to your life with a considerable monetary reward that should more than make up for the trouble."

A hysterical laugh bubbles up in my throat, edging on a sob.

Money?

He thinks money can make up for this?

For the terror, the violation, the sheer insanity of what he's proposing?

"I suggest you spend the evening preparing," he says, his tone almost bored now. "The Hunt begins at seven AM sharp."

And with that, the line goes dead, leaving me alone in the phone booth with nothing but the sound of my own ragged breathing and the pounding of my heart in my ears.

I drop the phone, letting it dangle and bounce from the curled cord like a dead body swinging from a hangman's noose. I don't know how long I stand there, frozen in shock and disbelief. It could be seconds, minutes, hours. Time has lost all meaning, all sense of reality shattered by the twisted game I've been forced into.

This can't be real.

And yet, it is.

He knows who I am and how to get to me. And if I don't play his fucked up game, he'll kill the people I love the most.

Well, bring it on, motherfucker.

I'll be ready. And when the dust settles, only one of us will be left standing.

I just pray to God it's me.

Chapter Five

THE FAWN

The world tilts on its axis as I stumble through the streets, my feet carrying me home on autopilot. The afternoon sun feels too bright, too cheerful for the nightmare unfolding before me.

It's like I've stepped into an alternate reality.

I keep waiting to wake up, for this all to turn out to be some sick, stress-induced hallucination. But with each step, the truth sinks in deeper, its poison spreading through my veins.

This is really happening.

And if I don't play along, the people I love the most will pay the price.

By the time I reach my front door, my hands are shaking so badly I can barely fit the key into the lock. I stumble inside, slamming the door behind me and leaning against it as if I can physically block out the madness nipping at my heels.

And that's when I see it. A plain brown package sitting innocuously on my coffee table, like a ticking time bomb waiting to detonate my world.

My heart lodges in my throat as I approach it, my footsteps echoing too loudly in the sudden stillness of my apartment.

He was here. The Hunter, or whatever twisted fuck is orchestrating this game. He was in my home, violating my sanctuary while I danced and drank and let a stranger finger me in a coat closet.

Or… he was the stranger.

We played your game last night. Now it's time for you to play mine.

Seems the wolf mask was an even better fit than I first thought.

Acidic bile rises in my throat. I swallow it down, my hands trembling as I tear open the package, its contents spilling across the table like the pieces of a macabre jigsaw puzzle.

A sleek black phone, its screen dark and reflective as a mirror. A stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills, more money than I've ever held at once. And a single black credit card with the logo of some bank I've never even seen before.

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