Page 60 of Christmas Mafia Prince
“Why are you still here?” she asks, pushing back her long blonde hair.
“Excuse me?” I choke out, flushing at this sudden confrontation. “I did not have the time to prepare myself for—”
“It’s your first hunt. You need to be in your designated position,” she says, as if I received a folder containing all there is to know about my role in the hunt and refused to read it.
“Which is… where exactly?”
She sighs in exasperation. “In the big greenhouse. The spouses aren’t allowed to communicate during the hunt to avoid any cheating.”
“This is so elaborate for no reason! Isn’t it cold in there?”
“Notthatcold, since orange trees can fruit in there. Just sit by the heater. Listen, I don’t care. If you want to get Damen disqualified, that’s not my problem.”
I count to ten. “Fine, I’m going.”
Turning on my heel, I leave behind the family I shot someone for and follow a path leading to the southern side of the mansion. I know exactly what place Bree is talking about, because Damen took some photos of me with the gorgeous tropical trees and bushes a few days back.
Despite its smaller size, the elongated Victorian building with a glass dome in the very middle somehow appears even grander than the main house. Maybe it’s about the excess of glass, or the fact that back when the greenhouse was first built, the plants grown inside were so rarely seen outside their natural habitat, but I love it all the same. I could do with something to read, but maybe it’s for the better that I’ll get to spend the day with lemon trees, palms, and azaleas draped with tinsel rather than with Bree and Karl Van der Horn. I don’t even want to be around Victor and his kids, because I’m too nervous to chat and play.
I sit in the shade of a large palm tree, and since the greenhouse is on a hill, I can look out through the window onto the woodswhere Damen hopefully doesn’t run into complications when collecting heads.
This is my life now. I got thrust into it by the strangest coincidence of events, and while I’m sure being with Damen will have its challenges, I’m open to facing them at his side. For once, I don’t feel alone and adrift, fighting for my survival like some street cat. I’ve been chosen, and it’s the sweetest feeling. My life is finally changing its trajectory.
I touch the padlock choker with a sigh. I love this mark of ownership, even if some would have called it toxic. MaybeI’mtoxic too, since it makes me feel so good about myself and my relationship with Damen.
I sit there with only the ticking of my new watch as my companion, but I’m excited about what our life together will bring. Will we live around New York, or jet around the world to luxurious hotels? I always wanted to visit London, and to think that now it’s a very real possibility? I had to spill blood to claim my rightful place, but I still feel like the luckiest man alive.
I’m deep in my thoughts, imagining romantic gondola rides in Venice, or rooftop dinners in Paris when something creaks on the other side of the greenhouse. I glance that way but see nothing through the bushes growing under the dome, so I get to my feet, suddenly hopeful that maybe I’m not meant to wait here all day. Maybe this was pre-planned, and Damen has come to meet me?
A flush rises to my cheeks as I breathe in the fragrant air in this warm garden surrounded by snow. Is it possible that Damen wants to propose to me here for real?
But when a figure in black emerges from behind a small rhododendron, I stall with my foot raised.
Something inside tells me to run, but I don’t get to take another step before the stranger raises a crossbow. A swish later,air is knocked out of my lungs and pain shoots through my body, knocking me over.
Chapter 23
Damen
Thesnowisstillfresh beneath my boots, barely marked but for a trail of staggered footprints I’ve been following for ten minutes now. Whoever they belong to is injured or stupid—either way, they’ll be mine soon. My lungs are full of frost-tinged air, my hands steady on the crossbow slung low at my side. The thrill is hot in my veins. This is what I was made for, what I’vebeen brought up to do. Unlike my jobs, which involve a lot of intel-gathering and waiting, this is pure hunting.
I take deliberate steps, but the crunch under my feet is barely a whisper, despite the woods being so quiet. The scent of pine is the gentle background to this age-old pursuit, but I keep being distracted by the phantom of sweet jasmine perfume. I remember how Kill looked last night when he laughed at my jokes with a glass of champagne against his lips, how tightly he clung to me when I kissed his throat.
A fresh trail farther to my right brings me back to reality. The person who left it has tripped here. There’s a hint of blood in the snow. I hope they feel like prey, that they can sense death breathing down their neck. Even the cold can’t dampen my excitement, because the blood still flowing through my future victim’s veins will be as hot as my own.
Something rustles in the snow-covered bushes ahead, and I sink to my haunches, ready to approach in a lowered stance when my smartwatch buzzes in a pattern announcing an upcoming text message. I stall, because this could be something trivial, like holiday wishes from my network provider, or spam, but curiosity wins as I kneel in the snow, and I pull up my sleeve to read the short bit of text.
Corvus’s name makes me stall, because spam it is not. My cousin wouldn’t bother me with memes about serial killers during my first hunt, so I read on, and a cold sensation spreads in my stomach.
[Something’s off. Your husband isn’t with everyone else], is all the message reads, but the few words make my thoughts desert the hunt, because what the fuck does that mean? Corvus wouldn’t message me like this if he wasn’t considering it a life-or-death situation. Since yesterday, he hasn’t even looked into my eyes.
I switch to the app I’m using to track the whereabouts of the golden choker I put on Killian, and my mouth dries when the map takes me out of the mansion and reveals his location in the big greenhouse. That initially calms me down, because perhaps he just fled there to escape awkward interactions with my family.
I’m tempted to pull my sleeve back over the watch and continue tracking my first prey of the day, but I remain unsettled about the way Corvus worded his message. He mentioned there being something off about the atmosphere, and out of all people I do trust him with the assessment of such things.
My gaze once again settles on the bushes, where a man whose head I was about to take is surely hiding. I have dreamed of this day for so long, but the truth is there will be another hunt next year, and if Killian is in some sort of danger, I will never forgive myself for ignoring my cousin’s message.
With a raspy sigh, I rise to my feet and run back over my own tracks through the deep snow. I no longer attempt to move quietly, to avoid alarming prey, because the hunt is over for me, and if Titus once again reigns supreme and holds it over my head, he better enjoy it, because it’s going to be the last time it happens.
