Hunter Burn Novels & Stories

It was loud, and he could tell that part of the house was on fire. "I'm going to kill you," he said with a smile, pressing the power button again, but he wasn't ready to pull out the gun, and it was too late, the three locusts he gave in a row hit his forehead. Idiot! He cannot die alongside him. Abhaya requires him, and he will correct his mistakes. Cuhen appeared and drew him away as the fire began to consume the entire large house. From the outside, it appears to be a simple house, but the owner is a notorious drug syndicate on the dark web and a businessman in the normal world, which is exactly what Farhistt is looking for.

I let her walk away from me when I should’ve fought harder. But seeing her tonight, smiling at someone else, that rewired something in me. I know her. I know her better than anyone. Better than he ever will. He’s not built for her. Not really. Not when things get hard. Not when she burns. And Aria burns. She deserves someone who won’t flinch. Someone who knows that love isn’t neat, or easy, or safe. It’s messy. Inconvenient. It takes your spine and snaps it in two. It sets your soul on fire and dares you to walk through the flames for it.

My retaliation was a public humiliation in front of the entire university that Gary could not simply ignore. The game of humiliation he had carefully planned had turned into a public judgment of him and his lackeys. It broke the last of his restraint and made him go mad. He dropped the civility and stopped testing the waters. That night, the app posted an unprecedented "Ultimate Hunting" Quest. The title was crimson red. [Ultimate Hunting Quest. Capture Sinead alive and take her to the abandoned classroom building in the north.]

I prefer the scowl but am in no mood to deal with it right now. Bringing the heavy bucket of dishes to the hot kitchen, the card seems to burn in my pocket, begging me to use it. I’d looked at it almost my entire break an hour ago. Nothing but a number and first name on it, not telling me much more than I learned in the elevator. I'd turned it over again and again, as if new words would appear on it the more I did it. But no, it remained the same. Lawson, and ten digits. That's all.

When he unlocked his phone, he saw multiple screenshots from the company's shareholders, criticizing him for neglecting the business and putting important deals in jeopardy. Tucker's brow furrowed. His chest tightened with frustration. On impulse, he decided to call a friend. "Hey, Hugo, what do you think is causing all these problems lately?" Hugo Blythe's voice came through, teasing yet sincere. "You should know better, Tucker. Since Willow left, there's no one reminding you to eat or take breaks. She used to make sure you didn't burn yourself out when work piled up." Tucker paused, tightening his grip on the phone. Bitterness surged through him, rendering him momentarily speechless.

I stuttered. "Girl. I could feel that tension from across the room. It's fine, it's none of my business, but I'm here now Wren. You know you could come to me if it ever gets rough. I'll always be here." He took my hands in his, caressing. Assuring. This is crazy. This is tempting. The beep of my phone brought me out of my spiralling emotions. "Just curated the sickest movie playlist. Watch party. Mine or yours? "

“Don’t scare the nurses.” “Damn it, Connor! What happened? Who did this to you?” His face looked as if someone had thrown acid on it. It wasn’t just his face, though; the burn went all the way down his neck and his left arm and chest. Probably his back as well. I wanted to cry. It looked excruciatingly painful. “Wolfsbane bomb disguised as a present. But we don’t have time. Help me get this thing out of my ribs. It hurts my lung.”

Inside, it was choked with dust. "Don't worry, Connor," one of his friends had told him during a conversation Samantha had overheard. "We've already set up the timed incendiary. You just need to lure her in and lock the door from the outside. Once it starts burning, she won't be able to get out. Based on the last fire, wait fifteen minutes, then go in and save her. She won't die—maybe just a few burns. But when she sees you coming through the flames, she'll be so grateful and start crying." Samantha had heard it all. And she was ready to let "Samantha" be buried in this fire for good.

The wolfsbane draught did not just burn. It hit deeper. It tore through the weakest, most broken part of me. I folded over, coughing so hard my body shook. My chest burned. My skull throbbed. Then my wolf took the blow. I felt it. The part of me that had already been damaged, already failing, buckled again. My scent turned wild. My breathing broke apart. The room swam black at the edges. This was not just pain. My wolf was being hurt again. It had never recovered from the fire.

I light the fuel with my other hand. The flames catch fast and climb through the hardware, licking around the laptop’s edges, finding the drive, consuming the server. The plastic casing warps and bubbles. Internal components glow orange, slowly deforming in the flames. The laptop screen cracks from the intense heat, the glass falling inward. Above it all, the smoke climbing into the Alaskan sky carries sixty-three names, ten years of lies, and eight years of bruises into the dark where nobody will ever retrieve them. We watch it burn. Her hand in mine. The fire reflecting in her eyes.