Claimed By The Predator
He pressed himself harder against the cold, cracked wall, the rough paint scratching his back, grounding him in the harsh reality of the moment.
The predators closed in, their grins widening, hungry and merciless.
Ari’s hands trembled, fists curling and unclenching as his mind raced.
Where was Thorne?
Where was the shadow that had been his shield—the warmth that had been his sanctuary?
The halls were empty.
No sign of protection, no sign of rescue.
Just these cruel eyes gleaming in the flickering light.
His mind flashed back to the glove under his pillow—the faint citrus scent that had become a lifeline.