Hunted

Naomi

Chapter 4

I had always wondered if it was lust that I was feeling for him. Maybe it's the way his curls fall over his face, or the fleeting moments his hands have been on me—just enough to make me crave more, but never enough to feel whole. I haven't changed. Still pathetic. Still desperate for whatever scraps of attention he throws my way.

I keep tapping my phone screen, trying my mom again. She's not picking up. She's supposed to be here—Marcus swore she was. But then again, I'm starting to realize his promises mean nothing.

Swallowing the panic, I bolt from the crawl space, glancing around. This amusement park feels like a graveyard. Silent. Empty. Marcus had a butcher's knife. What the hell is he planning? My stomach churns. They're probably circling around, waiting for me to fall into the trap.

After Jeremy's warning, everything spiraled. I barely had time to breathe before someone else grabbed me. I know there's more than just a few of them lurking around, but I somehow slipped away—or maybe they let me.

My inhaler is in my wrecked car, far out of reach. I have to stay calm, but my mind races. I need to know why Marcus lured me here, and where my mother is. Nothing makes sense, my head is spinning too fast to keep up.

"Never turn your back on me, baby," a voice murmurs behind me, and I jerk, but it's too late. His arms coil around me like a snake. "Sorry, but my client wasn't happy. You need to finish the job with someone else, okay?"

I squirm, fury rising, "You're sick! Let me go, Marcus!"

His grip tightens, his breath hot against my neck. "Let you go? You've never wanted that. You loved every second of this. You loved me sick. You still do."

The worst part? A part of me did. A part of me still does. I loathe myself for it.

"I'm not the same! I'm not that girl anymore!" I struggle, heart pounding. "How could you do this?"

He chuckles, low and dark. "Do what? Sell you to my friend? I sold plenty of others, what makes you any different? You're not. They all loved it. You will too. You're just like them. Just another whore to be passed around on dicks. I brought you here so you could remember every disgusting thing you begged me for—while they take you one by one."

I squeeze my eyes shut, his voice clawing into my mind, dragging me back to that night—the night I've tried so hard to forget, to erase from existence. My body trembles as his words tighten around me like a noose.

"Stop!" My voice cracks, breaking under the weight of my fear. "Let me go, Marcus! I don't want this! I hate you!"

A low laugh rumbles in his chest, cold and dismissive. "That's the best you've got? You hate me?" He tightens his grip, yanking me closer, his breath hot against my ear. "You don't hate me. You love being my little bitch. I know you better than you know yourself. You've always been good on your knees—obedient, just like a dog. It suits you."

I bite my lip, trying to drown out his voice, trying to focus on anything but him. But his words keep cutting through, vicious and unrelenting.

"You had to ruin it, though." He clicks his tongue, feigning disappointment, his hand trailing up my arm. "I had plans for you tonight. After my friends were finished, I thought maybe I'd have some fun. But now?" His hand drops, disgust creeping into his tone. "Now you're just boring. It's not fun when you fight back."

My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat. Marcus was always cruel, but never this. Never like this.

"What do you want from me?" My voice breaks as I snap, frustration and fear twisting in my gut.

Marcus grins, the kind that makes my skin crawl. "I want you to tear yourself apart... piece by piece. But mostly? I want to see you without your dignity, stripped raw."

Before I can respond, a voice echoes from the shadows, casual and cold. "Found the head." He laughs, kicking something that rolls with a sickening thud. "Shit, man. It's squashed to hell."

My heart sinks as I look over, and bile rises in my throat. It's a pig's head—rotten, oozing something vile onto the ground. What the hell are they up to? Who the hell is he?

Marcus turns, waving a hand. "Leave that alone, Tristan. I was using it for practice."

Practice. My stomach churns violently, and I fight the urge to vomit.

The guy, tall and lean with a wicked smirk, gives me a once-over. "Didn't know today was the day. Would've dressed up."

Marcus doesn't even flinch. "It's not." His voice is low, calm. "I just needed some entertainment."

My body trembles, the room spinning. "What is going on?!" I manage to choke out, glancing at both of them. Who are they and why are more men emerging from the dark corners of the amusement park? Faces I don't recognize, but eyes that all seem to know me too well. Why are they here? How do they know me?

Marcus glances at me with a bored expression. "She used to be so obedient," he tells his friend, a twisted satisfaction in his voice. "Timid and eager to please. It's a shame. I was looking forward to breaking her in again tonight. I guess we'll just have to find other ways to entertain ourselves."

I don't wait for more. I bolt, my heart pounding. Past the rusting skeleton of the rollercoaster, a jolt of painful nostalgia threatens to pull me under, but I force it back. Tears streak my face as I sprint towards the exit gate, my skin crawling with the feeling of being tainted.

Outside, I gulp for air, pressing my hand over my mouth to stifle the whimpers escaping my lips. I fumble with my phone, desperate for a lifeline. Ariella would've been my sanctuary, but she's gone to England. Tina's in California.

I trudge along the roadside, the wind biting through my clothes. My phone buzzes with a new message, but I don't dare check it. Instead, I pull up the last messages from my mother, searching for any clue I might have missed.

MOM: Don't look for me.

The words from two days ago echo in my mind. They were followed by another message from an unknown number, which I later realized was Marcus. He had promised me that if I came to this place, he would let her go. Another empty promise. Another lie.

The distant chime of church bells cuts through the air, dragging up memories I desperately wish to forget.

"Naomi Moore."

The voice slices through my thoughts, and I freeze. Slowly, I turn to face the speaker and my heart drops.

Marcus's younger brother, Jayden. The one who tried to end my life.