Hunted

Naomi

Chapter 9
Five years ago.

My heart pounds so hard it feels like it's about to break through my ribs. My fingers find the heart necklace around my neck, clutching it tight, as if it'll somehow steady me.

There are too many people, and the air feels thick, suffocating. My throat tightens as I press against the wall, descending the concrete stairs that are slick with grime. The place reeks of cigarette smoke, sweat, and something sour beneath it all. The deeper I go, the more it clings to my skin.

I glance around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Marcus once I reach the bottom, but all I see is darkness broken by faint red lights and the shifting bodies of strangers. The crowd swallows everything—faces, voices—turning it into a blur of noise and shadow.

After the hour-long drive, Marcus brought me to Masonry Manor. It looms in the center of town like a forgotten relic. The Masonry family, they were once the wealthiest people in Vallory Bay, maybe even North America. But they were thieves—corrupt to their core. I remember the history lesson, how they turned everyone in Vallory into their slaves, drained the town of its wealth, and then fled the country after being praised for building a 'trusted' bank. All of it was a scam.

Now their mansion sits here like a rotting corpse, a monument to their sins. People use it for all kinds of illegal shit, and while this party isn't exactly that, the vibe is off.

I push through the crowd, squeezing between the throngs of people, trying to find some air, some space. Ariella would've loved a place like this. My mind flashes back to her and Vaughn, and I still can't make sense of her reaction earlier.

Frustration gnaws at me. He said fun. I can't see any fun in here. My eyes land on a red curtain across from where I'm standing. It seems out of place, too formal for a place like this.

I walk over, pulling it aside, and step into pitch blackness. At first, there's nothing but the sound of my own breathing. Then I hear it—soft whimpers. The faint clink of chains. The room feels colder, heavier, like it's swallowing the noise from the party outside.

Masonry Manor has three floors, each darker than the last. No matter the time of day, it feels like midnight in here.

I step into the room, the air thick with dampness and something sweetly metallic. My eyes strain against the shadows, but the moans weave through the darkness, a chorus of despair that quickens my pulse. I swallow hard, the taste of fear clinging to my throat.

Suddenly, a hand grabs my wrist, icy and possessive. "You're curious, aren't you? Want to see what they're begging for? Or maybe you want to join them and be better."

I gasp, spinning to confront the figure behind me, a silhouette warped by the darkness. "Marcus?"
"He abandoned you," he hisses, the words slicing through the air like a knife.

My stomach knots. "I know it's you. Stop playing games."

His fingers slide down my waist, lingering at my hip before curving around to my ass and squeezing it. Heat spreads through me, igniting a hunger I can't suppress. I want him closer, want to rub my body against his.

"You don't know a damn thing," he whispers, his breath hot against my ear.

Suddenly, something cold and unyielding clasps around my neck, yanking me backward against a hard surface. I gasp, the breath stolen from my lungs.

A soft glow slices through the darkness, illuminating Marcus's face, his twisted grin a mask of delight and control. His eyes glint with a predatory hunger as he leans in closer.

"Be a good little girl for me," he whispers, his breath hot against my ear, thick with an intimacy that chills me. "Touch yourself. I want to watch you."

He steps back, watching me. I feel the terrible urge to obey him. To show him that I can be just as bold as the girls he watches. I hate that he watches them.

I pull up my skirt, reaching inside my panties... oh, God, I hadn't realized how wet I'd gotten. I rub my middle finger around my clit and instantly feel myself buckling. "Oh, God," I moan as I rub my soaked pussy, wishing it was Marcus who touched me, just like that night.

I feel myself leaning backwards and I insert my fingers inside my pussy, pushing them in and then out, getting wet even more knowing Marcus is watching me.

"I'm going to come, Marcus," I moan.

He walks closer to me, "Don't," and with that, he pulls my hand out and shoves something bulky inside me. I yelp out and grab Marcus's shoulder as I feel the vibrator pulsating inside me so hard, I'm about to break.

"Marcus, please," tears sting my eyes as I feel my insides throb and I'm starting to leak already.

I hear Marcus groan. I love that sound. I want to hear it more. Before I can feel myself on absolute edge, the vibrations slow down, "No, no!" I whimper.

Then, I feel Marcus step back and the collar comes off my neck. Two more pairs of footsteps walk towards me and my heart drops. It's Chase. He was in Marcus's soccer team last year before he broke his leg. And the other one is Jayden.

Bile rises in my throat, the acrid taste threatening to spill over. Did they see me? They saw me.
Jayden claps his hands, a cruel smirk curling his lips. "We really should get you into porn. Believe me, you'll be richer than your daddy."

I clench my fists, the heat of shame flushing my cheeks. My stomach churns as I turn to Marcus, his eyes reflecting nothing that makes my skin crawl.

Without a word, I storm out of the room, tears burning a trail down my cheeks. I hate myself.
Marcus doesn't try to stop me. He doesn't follow me up the stairs or out of the mansion.

I search around my pocket— oh, that's right. My phone's in his car.

Damnit!

I spot a cab drive past and I quickly call it over.
"Bayfall Street," I say to the driver before getting in.

I wipe my cheeks, sinking into the backseat of the cab, my fingers trembling as I hold them to my lap. It's all my fault. I know that. But I didn't think he'd go this far.

By the time I get home, the air feels stifling. Empty. I walk through the hallway toward the kitchen, expecting Dad. The silence presses in. He's not here. Of course he isn't.

I spot Sam. Without thinking, I rush to her, gripping her like a lifeline as the sobs tear through me, raw and uncontrollable.

Her arms close around me, firm but gentle. "What happened?" she asks softly, concern lacing her words. I can't answer, the shame too heavy, choking the words in my throat. She doesn't ask again, just holds me as I shake against her.

The humiliation claws at me, a gnawing ache that won't let go. Chase. Jayden. Watching. Staring. Like I'm some toy for their amusement. I want to disappear, to escape the memory that burns in my mind. I want it all to stop.

I pull away, wiping my cheeks roughly, before storming up the stairs and into my room. I dig my spare phone from my bedside table drawer and log into my account. I stare at the screen, the knot in my stomach twisting tighter.

With shaking fingers, I type out the message to our group chat:

ME: Meet up at Briskers. 6.