Page 41 of Breaking Ophelia
Caius never lets go of me as we descend, his grip at the base of my neck, steering me with absolute ease. The people on the stairs press flat against the walls as we pass; some of the girls throw me looks equal parts disgust and envy, and the guys measure me up, eyes flicking from my bruised knees to my swollen lips to the proud, sick smile on Caius’s face.
He cuts through the crowd toward the bar, which isn’t a bar so much as a folding table buckling under the weight of open bottles and red cups. He leans in, voice cutting through the noise. “Stay here.”
I do. I’m not sure I could move even if I wanted to.
He disappears for a second, swallowed by the crowd. My throat is raw, every swallow a reminder, and I’m suddenly, viciously aware of the way the room orbits around the Feral Boys.
On the couch by the fireplace, Rhett and Colton have set up their own fiefdom, holding court with a rotating cast of girls and hangers-on. Rhett looks up as I catch his eye, grins, and offers a lazy salute. Colton just nods, eyes cold and unreadable.
Every conversation in the room seems to stop and start in time with them, like they’re running the place on a pulse. I see girls sitting in clusters, heads close together, glancing up at the boys and then away, like flocks of birds checking for hawks. The guys hover, circling, but never closing the gap. It’s a dance, and everyone knows the steps.
I can’t tell if I’m the star or the goat.
“—Night Hunt is going to be wild this year,” says a girl to my left, voice pitched just above the music.
“Yeah, my cousin did it last time, but this year I hear they’re doing solo hunts. Apparently that one girl died and they changed the way it was traditionally done to ensure the wife doesn’t escape. Oh my God, I also heard they had to use a taser to keep one of the girls from escaping.”
“They let her go after?”
“After the baby. But only because her family paid triple tuition.”
The words crawl into my head and lodge there. I scan the room, looking for other prey. Most of the girls look like they’re here for the thrill, or the money, or the chance to latch onto someone with a name that matters.
I have no idea why I’m here. No idea why the Board picked me for this horror show. I was nothing worthy, and quite frankly my father deserved whatever punishment was in store for him. I didn’t deserve this shit.
Caius returns with two cups, one clear, one brown. He hands me the brown and waits for me to sip. It burns, sweet and sharp, the aftertaste pure ethanol. Grabbing my hand, he takes me to a couch and pushes me down.
He settles next to me, the heat of his body an anchor. “Do you know why they call it the Night Hunt?” he asks, not looking at me.
“No.”
He sips his drink, tongue darting out to catch a drop. “Because it starts after midnight on the full moon. And it’s not over until sunrise.”
He says it like a fact, like he’s explaining an old family recipe. There’s no gloating, no drama.
“What happens if someone gets hurt?” I ask.
He looks at me, and the darkness in his eyes is bottomless. “No one cares.”
He lets the silence linger, then laughs, quiet and genuine. “Relax, little vixen. It’s just a game.”
“Funny. You don’t strike me as someone who plays games to lose.”
He leans in, teeth grazing my ear. “Only when the prize is worth it.”
I shiver. The cup trembles in my hand, and I drain it just to have something to do. The liquor hits my empty stomach and makes my head float a little.
Across the room, Rhett and Colton are watching us. Colton’s got a girl on his lap, but he’s not touching her. He just stares, eyes like ice cubes, mouth a straight line. Rhett is talking, but his attention keeps flicking to me, then to Caius, then back to his drink.
I remember what Ms. Valence said.If you choose not to be, the Hunt will decide your value in other ways.
A pair of hands lands on my shoulders from behind. I jolt, nearly spill my drink.
Julian. He smells like weed and vanilla. He leans close, lips at my ear, voice soft enough to keep the others from hearing.
“Bet you didn’t think you’d end up here,” he says, and it’s not really a question.
“Couldn’t have imagined it in my worst fever dream.”
