I Hunt Novels & Stories

Or maybe it's because no audio comes to us through the camera footage. Jasper's eyes are on a monitor showing the front porch of the restaurant where his Mercedes was supposed to be parked. The Mercedes and the suave chauffeur are gone. Well, that makes escaping a little more problematic, assuming we can find a way out of this tunnel. Judging from the twitching muscles in Jasper's jaw, it's more than just problematic.

When we were kids, she used to get us into all kinds of trouble and I would always get blamed for it because once she flashed those big blue eyes, no one could accuse her of any wrongdoing. “To do it more often?” I laughed, thankful for the comic relief. Despite my bravado and earlier reassurances to Devon, I was still nervous. As he said, I did not like to kill animals. Werewolves were actually peaceful creatures and we didn’t hunt other animals asides from the Grant Hunt and the wolves who did it for sport. It wasn’t banned or anything so they were in their rights. It just wasn’t something I liked doing. For this reason, I was nervous. Plus, the Alpha’s arrogant son, Louis was participatin

Irina It didn’t take long for Hunter to find the alpha's body and, by the looks of things, this pack was killed a couple of days ago. We didn’t find any evidence that they were involved in any of the attacks but we also didn’t find anything to tell us that they weren’t.

AVA Without another word, Hunter moves swiftly away from the lockers, passing by his two friends whose names I'm guessing are Preston and Gomorey. They had been gawking at Hunter with a mischievous grin playing on their lips, and Hunter didn't waste a chance to shoot them both with his penetrating glare. I noticed their pupils retrench as they stared at him, meaning they were conversing with each other through mindlink. It was brief, lasting a couple of seconds before Hunter turns left and straight down the now-empty halls.

Albeit it’s only been a week, it's been a big improvement from home so far. My mission is to gather as much information as possible about their packs and their families. Anything that could help our IT people find them. It’s even more ironic than calling those two men twins—that we as hunters have an IT team. All Hunter kids are homeschooled, and access to the internet is limited. The only reason I have a mobile phone is because they need to be able to reach me. But before this, I wasn’t allowed to read certain books, watch TV, or do anything most normal teenagers would.

The vampire that killed Ethan blurted out but his calm expression was broken into one of fear. “You are the vampire that hunts vampires!” This realization forced him to immediately try and retreat but that was not possible because the only thing that left that position was his body, not his head. The difference in their ability was that vast as he had been decapitated before he even realized that he was without a head. “Vampire hunter? That’s vulgar. Please, call me Liam,” The man said to the head in his hand.

Well shit. I was not expecting all that. The Hunter just verbally spilled his guts and essentially bared his soul in one sitting. And of all the reasons he could be on the run, I hadn’t considered that he killed someone that high up in his guild, least of all his mother.

Hunter excitedly looked ahead of them. There was a huge elk that was silently eating a bit of the fallen fruits from the tree. Its huge antlers were almost two feet long, spread out with sharp edges. “That looks like a good target,” Issac whispered crouching down. Everyone also hid behind the huge tree nearby. The elk glanced up as if sensing them. They went silent, looking at the prey. “I want to hunt it,” Hunter whispered with an excited grin. His hand was clutching onto a small dagger that they used back in the island.

“How is this possible? Our leads are all broken again.” “Exactly. Looking for Clarice Madden won’t be easy.” Hunter tugged on his hair. Sydney bit her lip and said, “You said firstly just now. Have you found anything else?”

Hi, intruder. A shiver runs down my spine. Yesterday, when I left, I realised I hadn't given him my number, and it stung. Seeing him again would have taken extra effort, too much risk. And I'd already used up my yearly quota of recklessness. I hadn't been thinking with my brain. So how did he get my number? I type back. How did you get my number, mystery man? Then I wait. Let's just say mystery man has his ways.