Alpha’s Moonchild
“One of our scouts secured a fresh catch. A rogue fae from the northern wilds. She just turned 18. Fierce little thing. She’ll make an interesting first round.”
Laughter circled the table like smoke.
“First round of what?” I asked, already knowing.
Carlton turned toward me with that smile again. “Of the Hunt, of course.”
My jaw clenched.
The Hunt. A sport where men chased down supernaturals, unarmed, drugged, terrified, for fun. If the prey survived the night, they were sold into secret trades. If not, well… there was always someone to clean up the blood.
I forced myself to stay still. Play along. Think of Ava.
Bab Populer