Chapters (72)
- Dedication
- Prey Island Map
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- CREED
- SIX
- BILLIE
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- JIRO
- TWELVE
- BILLIE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- ROW
- TWENTY-TWO
- BILLIE
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- ACHILLES
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- CREED
- THIRTY-NINE
- BILLIE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- ROW
- FIFTY
- BILLIE
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- TO CONTINUE THE ADVENTURE…
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ALSO BY KENDRA
No one has come to shut me down. I haven’t been killed. Perhaps, some small part of me wanted to draw them out. I’m playing the game just like they wanted. Here, the dancers aren’t the Prey. They’re the hunters, the Hounds, the predators. The patrons who come in serve as Prey and they’re all happy to be so. A safe place for the dancers. Somewhere they can be certain no one will be taken or touched against their will.
A place I’ve always needed.
But still, there’s something missing.
Specifically, four someones. . .
Every now and then, I think I catch sight of them only to realize it’s some stranger I’ve never met. The first two months, I started chasing them down just in case. The last two months, I stopped, realizing how foolish it is. It isn’t like they’ve reached out. They don’t even have a phone number to call me on, or my address to send a letter. I’d cursed myself for a month when I’d realized they have no way to find me. I can’t even remember if I told them my last name. I’d tried looking for them, but in the end, I’d stopped. If they didn’t reach out, it probably meant they didn’t want to be bothered.
Paranoia tickles me when I come out on the floor and mingle with customers enjoying the shows. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I look around, worried that the Hound Society finally came to finish the job before I’m ready. Instead, I catch the sight of someone’s back of their head, one that looks familiar. Tattoos peek above his collar and his wide shoulders.
My heart stops.
“Creed?” I rasp, too softly to be heard in the club.
I hesitate when he starts walking away, knowing it’s likely another useless hope. There are plenty of guys who look like him. It’s probably nothing.
But when I see a second head that looks strangely like Achilles, I decide to follow, brushing off the conversation I’d just been in the middle of.
It can’t be them, I tell myself, but still, I follow them anyway just in case. The closer I get to them as they part the crowd, the more my hope grows and I find myself rushing to catch up, following them through the crowd and into the back hallway that leads to the bathrooms and offices.
They disappear inside the door to my office, and I stop, hesitating though the door is left partially ajar. I hover, wondering if I’ve lost my mind or if I should just look. If it’s them. . .
But what if it’s the Hound Society?
“Fuck it,” I grumble to myself. “What’s the worst they can do to me now?”