Page 4 of Run Little Fawn

I've killed before, without remorse. So far, all my victims have deserved it, but that's merely coincidence. I can kill a less deserving target as a means to a worthy end.

I won't hesitate.

At least, that's what I think until I see the photograph nestled in with all her biographical information, an entire life reduced to words and numbers on a page.

Her image stares up at me, a captured moment of unsuspecting innocence. Aria Moreau's face is a study in contradictions—soft, delicate features juxtaposed against the quiet strength and brilliance in her gaze. She has the kind of beauty that sneaks up on you, unassuming at first glance but impossible to forget once you've truly seen her.

I find myself drawn to the rich chestnut of her hair, the way it frames her heart-shaped face in loose waves. Her eyes are a striking green, vibrant and expressive even in the stillness of the image. There's a smattering of light freckles across her nose and cheeks.

As I trace the curve of her full lips with my gaze, a flicker of something long-dormant stirs within me. A distant echo of the humanity I've worked so hard to purge from my being. It's unsettling, this sudden awareness of my own pulse, the way my breath catches in my throat.

I crush the feeling mercilessly, my fingers tightening on the edges of the photograph. Even carnal desire is weakness, the very thing I've been trained to bleed out of myself. I can't afford to let a pretty face distract me from the purpose that drives my every waking moment.

And yet, as I tuck her picture into the inner pocket of my suit jacket, I can't shake the nagging sense that Aria Moreau is more than just another target. There's a depth to her eyes, a story waiting to be unraveled. Part of me wants to know what lies beneath the surface, to peel back the layers of her existence until I understand what makes her tick.

But that's not my role in this game. I'm the Hunter, and she's the prey. Her life, her secrets… they're all forfeit the moment I catch her.

And I will catch her, just as I've caught every other target the Order has set before me.

I let the rest of her file fall to the leather seat, the papers scattering like fallen leaves. The limo slows to a stop, the city's heartbeat pulsing just beyond the tinted windows. I take a moment to compose myself, to slip back into the skin of Lucian Voss, the ruthless predator.

The door opens and I step out into the bustling streets. I breathe in the cold night air and the scents of the city—exhaust fumes, the faint aroma of street food, the heady perfume of a passing woman. It's a sensory overload, a cacophony of life I've learned to filter out, to focus only on the hunt.

I straighten my suit and glance at my reflection in a storefront window. My gray eyes are sharp and cold, but with my designer suit and perfectly styled white-blond hair, I look like any other young trust fund playboy prowling the streets in search of his next dopamine fix. Young, attractive, elite. It's a mask I've perfected over the years, a facade that hides the seething rage and the festering bitterness beneath.

As I melt into the crowd, my senses heighten, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. Somewhere in this teeming mass of humanity, Aria Moreau goes about her life, unaware of the shadow that now stalks her every move. She has no idea that her fate was sealed the moment her name was printed in that file, that her very existence now hangs in the balance.

I allow myself a small, cruel smile as I begin my hunt in earnest. The thrill of the chase, the rush of power that comes with holding another's life in my hands—it's a high I've come to crave, a drug that numbs the pain of my own shattered past.

And Aria is the innocent lamb I must slaughter in order to step into my future and finally make my father pay for the sins of his past.

Let the Hunt begin.

Chapter Three

THE FAWN

I down the rest of my drink, the liquid courage burning a path to my belly. Squaring my shoulders, I weave through the crowd, Natalie's whoops of encouragement fading behind me as I make my way over to the hottie watching me at the bar. He watches my approach, his gaze raking over my body in a way that sends shivers down my spine.

"Hi there," I say. It’s not nearly as smooth as it sounded in my head a moment ago, but when I lean against the bar beside him, he grins a little and I think it might have actually worked. Up close, he's even more stunning, and my fingers itch to touch the scrape of stubble on his jaw.

"Hello yourself," he replies, his voice a smooth, rich baritone. "Can I buy you a drink?"

I nod, biting my lip as he signals the bartender. "Sure. Vodka cranberry."

He orders a whiskey for himself, his eyes never leaving mine. "Damien. What’s your name?”

"Aria," I offer, accepting the drink the bartender slides my way. Fortunately, I’m not drunk enough to make a comment about his name being fresh from The Omen. Almost, but not quite. "Thanks."

Damien shrugs, a boyish yet wolfish grin on his face. "Pleasure's all mine. It's not every day I get to buy a drink for the most beautiful woman in the room."

I snort, rolling my eyes even as a blush heats my cheeks. The alcohol just makes it worse, but it goes down more easily than my last drink. "Does that line usually work for you?"

"You tell me." He winks, taking a sip of his whiskey before setting it aside. When he glances around the room, it’s like he has to tear his gaze away from me, and it locks right back on within seconds. "Care to dance?"

I hesitate for a moment, glancing back at Natalie. She's already found a new dance partner, a tall blond guy with his hands on her hips. She catches my eye, mouthing, "Go!" with an exaggerated thumbs up.

"Sure," I say.

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