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
He laughs as he keeps his gun trained on me. “Darlin’, I’m the one who’s going to claim the hefty prize someone put up for bagging you before Loyd.” As he talks, I search him for weapons in case I missed something, but I still only see the single hunting knife on his belt and nothing else. “Disgusting what that asshole did bringing you here,” he continues as if I actually care who the fuck Loyd is. “We’re supposed to bring in real threats like this big guy right here,” he says, pointing to Creed. “You hardly seem threatening.”
He seems seriously under armed for this kind of situation but maybe he likes that sort of shit. Maybe he likes the aesthetic of taking down humans with only a single gun and knife, a cigar in his mouth. It’s giving me serious Jumanji, I-go-on-hunting-safari vibes, and I’m going to say that’s his mistake.
His eyes focus on me lewdly, tracing over my body, and though I’m completely covered with the clothing I got from the duffle bag, it’s clear he’s at one point seen an image of me without them. His tongue darts out and touches the tip of the cigar in his mouth, circling it, and it disgusts me. Despite the limited weapons, it’s clear this man has ridiculous money, which makes it more believable that the Hound Society is filled with rich assholes. That golden Rolex on his wrist draws my eyes again as it glints in the sun. Plenty of dickheads come into the club wearing the things as a sign of wealth whether they have the money to back it up or not. He’s wearing a thick gold chain beneath his shirt that’s easily worth a couple of thousand if it’s real gold. The cigar is a brand I recognize from the club, something only the richest dicks smoke. If only he spent as much money on his hairline as he did on that watch.
“Look, I appreciate the chat,” I say, cutting off whatever tangent he was starting on. “But we’ve got somewhere to be. If you’re here to kill us, then get on with it. Quite trying to draw things out.” He stares at me in surprise. “What? You study up on tv villains? Watch the Joker talk forever about his plans without actually killing anyone? Spit it out.”
Apparently, that isn’t the thing to say to one of the Hounds. With a scowl and a heavy bite on his cigar, he raises his rifle, prepared to shoot me to shut me up.
That quickly, Jiro and Creed move.