The Most Dangerous Game Audiobook Novels & Stories

The distant baying of hounds carried on the wind, chilling and relentless. Leo climbed into the back of the van beside Silas’s stretcher. He took the Glock Harlan handed him, checking the chamber with hands that no longer shook. He met Harlan’s eyes. **“Let them come,”** Leo said, his voice cold as the steel table, his gaze fixed on the woods where the hunters closed in. **“Let them try.”** The van’s engine roared to life. The fragile sanctuary of the root cellar was gone. Ahead lay flight, danger, and Silas’s fragile battle for life. Behind them, Dominic’s wolves howled, hungry for blood. The war for survival had entered its darkest, most desperate chapter.

The air was electric, charged, ready to shatter. Adriana’s voice, when it came, was low and cold as steel. “So this is the game we’re playing.” Isabella smiled sweetly, withdrawing her hand. “Careful, darling. Games are dangerous when you don’t know the rules.” Adriana’s eyes locked on Damian’s. “Then it’s time someone rewrote them.” The storm inside him broke loose—but before he could speak, a gunshot cracked in the distance. Shouts erupted from the hall. The game had just turned deadly.

Something told me that I was in danger and there was a small voice that used to warm me when I was in any kind of danger, and now, I could hear it. “Alpha Ansel, I know you would enjoy this one.” Alpha Ansel? Was my ears playing tricks on me? Had I already crossed the border and now I was in another pack? “Don't play with me, Amos, I have heard you saying you would enjoy the prey,” Now I could hear the voice more clearly and before I knew it, a huge and tall man stood beside the other man whose name was Amos. Would I survive in front of these gigantic men? Never in my life had I seen tall wolves like these ones.

For a man who had supposedly lost everything, he looked completely in control. Dressed in an expensive charcoal suit, a glass of whiskey in his hand, he leaned casually against a marble column, as if the room—and everyone in it—still belonged to him. And then, he smiled. A Dangerous Game Priya’s voice crackled urgently through the earpiece. “Ayesha, you need to move. Now.” But Ayesha didn’t move. Davos raised his glass in a silent toast, his gaze never leaving hers. It wasn’t fear in his eyes.

“It’s... intoxicating.” I swallow hard, trying to quiet the terror that licks at my insides. This is a game to him, but one with stakes that are all too high. I dart behind the towering bookshelf, my breath coming in short, silent gasps. The logical part of my mind is calculating the seconds, the distance, but the primal part is submerged in the thrill, the danger, and a dark delight. “Anya,” Bastien’s voice rumbles through the room, a velvet caress that’s threaded with iron. “This game you’re playing, do you know how it ends?”

Nikolay killed people; he was a dangerous man, and my brother and I were now under his control. Of course, if my brother were a decent and honorable person, I wouldn't be here doing immoral things and fearing for my life every second, because I had seen enough of Nikolay to say he had a strange feeling that he was bipolar. Sometimes he treated me well, and other times he was a real annoyance or even worse. I remembered the previous day. His slap had scared me more than any other shout or anything else that could have happened. Nikolay was dangerous, and when he got bored with this game, he wouldn't just kill my brother.

Merrick continued, drawing their bodies closer. Mr. Hawthorne waited, his mind racing to figure out what Mr. Merrick would do next. Suddenly, a movement at his chest startled him. Reflexively, he looked down and found the tip of a gun pointed directly at his chest. “Then you must die, Kinsley Hawthorne.” The sound of the gunshot erupted. The bullet flew in a brief and inevitable moment, piercing directly through the center of Mr. Hawthorne’s chest. Sharp pain followed, spreading throughout his body. His eyes widened, and he slowly stepped back before being supported by Thomas.

Michael tried to grab me again, but before he could even take a step, the sound of a gunshot rang out in the air, making me cover my ears as a shriek escaped me. “I won’t fucking miss your head if you move one more time.” Damiano stated in a deadly low tone. I could feel my knees weakening with each passing second. I looked at Michael, and my fear made his jaw clench. I stared at my father, and it looked like he was having an inner battle as he assessed the situation. And now I knew why the fuck it felt dangerous to approach Damiano. He was batshit crazy!

Like, look at me, taking this absolute monster like a goddamn champ. Add that to my résumé: Survived the Connor McLeod Experience. And God, the way he fills me—completely, totally, to the point where I swear I can feel him in my throat—it’s all I can do not to lose my mind, not to scream his name like a prayer. Who needs religion when you’ve got this level of holy experience? Honestly? If I die right now, at least I’ll go out satisfied. And very, very full. “God, you’re so tight,” he groans, forehead pressed to mine, breath hot on my lips.

Their fingers are unnaturally thin, with joints that multiply before my eyes, and nails sharpening into black points that scrape against my skin as I tear myself free again and again. “Stop!” I scream, slamming my shoulder into someone’s chest. They don’t stagger. They don’t even blink. Their ribs open where I hit them, splitting apart like a ribcage made of wet wood, and something dark and crawling peers out before snapping shut again. I gag. This isn’t my pack. This is the Game wearing them. I run faster. The clearing warps around me, trees bending inward, branches stretching like skeletal fingers overhead. The ground tilts sharply, pitching me forward. I stumble, barely catching myse