Hunting The Hunter Novels & Stories

“Hunter? What was my code?” Hunter turned around and looked straight in her eyes, “ The code is: One. Two. Three. Four.”

I'm a hunter but I don't posses what others do, I sigh taking slow strides, I stop to a halt on hearing whispers, I look behind me to check but no one's there, I move a little forward , I see two people talking on hush tones, I strain my eyes to see who it is, naturally my eyes zoom in on them I could see them clearly even from afar, I could recognize one as goofy(Arthur) and the other is a freaking handsome dude, I watch them talk about few things and I see him pull Arthur in for a hug, before placing a peck on his lips

Arrows sang through the smoke like whispers meant to kill. Jet made a break for it but before he could escape something faster struch him. Thwack!—an arrow nailed him to a wooden beam. He screamed once before another arrow found his throat. The room vanished into smoke. White tendrils coiled around broken pillars. Shadows flickered fast, quiet, merciless. Three figures stepped into the storm like ghosts walking through fire. The first tall, coat snapping at his heels, steel in his eyes didn’t slow. Calvin Hunt. The man whose name made wolves flinch. Custom shotgun in hand, still smoking.

Logan’s POV I had put everyone on high alert. The entire pack were looking for her. She couldn’t have gotten far. She had maybe a couple minutes head start. Blake, Leo and Calvin were all out helping to search for her as well. Blake had shifted into his large grey wolf. Taking off into the forest in the hopes of picking up her scent. Leo and Calvin were searching the grounds. I should be helping to look. Lana was my mate, but I found myself making my way to my parent’s bedroom.

He's already turning the crossbow over, already bored with this interaction. For a second the relaxed expression drains out of his face and what's under it looks a lot older than twenty. "You want a monster, Hunter, you're three miles from where you should be standing. People are going missing out of Tamarack. It isn't us. And it isn't nothing." He tosses the crossbow at me, and I catch it against my chest. He drops the knife at my feet, which is somehow the most insulting part of the entire interaction. "Count the missing persons sometime," he says. "See if the number sits as wrong with you as it does with me."

He let out a boisterous laugh, placing a hand over his chest as it bobbed vigorously. “Ok, Kaia. Let’s see what you’re made of.” ***Julian If someone had told me I’d be hunting alongside a large predatorial wolf who tracked the woods faster than I could blink, I would have laughed in their face. She was incredible... fast as she was lethal. Before I knew it, the wolf pounced on a young buck and let out a howl for my attention. Sharpened canines dug into the poor animal’s throat as it thrashed around, letting the blood pour out. The wolf was unfazed as it clenched its jaw, holding a firm grip. Slowly, the legs stopped kicking. And then only a few last twitches before the animal’s eyes glassed

Melissa frowned, her intuition clearly screaming that I was lying. “Well, I hope you are,” Dante grumbled, checking the screen of his phone. “Because your Hunter is on the premises. She was just let in.” She’s here. The words hit me like a physical blow. My body thrummed, a vibration that started in my marrow. I couldn’t decide if it was the thrill of the hunt or the desperate, pathetic need to see her face again. I leapt off the couch, moving with a speed that blurred the air, and dashed to the balcony that overlooked the chaotic dance floor. My eyes, honed by centuries of predation, dissected the sea of writhing bodies, searching for that familiar mop of red hair.

"So, tell me, Hunter, do you like to hunt?" The motherfucker still remained silent and swallowed. If he was scared, he should've known better than to make me provoke me. I smiled, and he shivered more. I must resemble a stray dog that's about to jump on passersby. "Oh, don't be flustered, I know you have some weird taste." I caressed his fingers and my eyes bored into him. "How does it feel? Exhilarating, right?" He didn't reply. Expected. "Tell me, Hunter, while hunting... do you ever feel hunted?" He sniffled, snot leaking down his chapped lips. I rolled my neck, groaning as the muscles popped. It had been a long fucking day.

Then, out of that void, a figure stepped forward. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Clad in black leather that seemed to absorb the moonlight. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his presence—goddess above, his presence—was suffocating. It pressed against me the way Damon and Lucas’s dominance did, only sharper, like knives instead of claws. “Finally,” the hunter said, his voice low and smooth, carrying a deadly calm. “The fated wolves, united in one den. How generous of you to gather.”

Stops screaming. Four dead. Two left. Tom's fighting the fifth hunter. They're grappling, knife against claws. Tom's stronger but the hunter's got skill. Knife finds fur, slides deep. Tom yelps. Valentina moves like lightning. Kicks the knife away, stakes the hunter through the spine. Paralysis, then death. One hunter left. The lead. The one who spoke. He's backing toward the exit, gun trained on Valentina. "This isn't over," he says. "Mordaunt knows where you are. He'll send more. Bigger force. You can't win."