CHAPTER 39: HUNTING LUCIEN

The nightmare of being hunted began to sink in. Everywhere Lucien ran, they were already there.

The hill, the cave, even inside the manor. No matter how far he went, their voices followed, teasing, echoing through the trees like a killer’s lullaby.

Two hours had passed since this sick little "game" began. And honestly? If the Twinster had wanted to end it, they would’ve caught him in the first ten minutes.

But they were playing. Stretching out his panic for fun.

Lucien had done everything he could think of, ditched his shoes to hide his tracks, controlled his breathing, and kept to the shadows.

But still, there they were. And now, the only thing separating them was a pit of slick, brown mud.

"Just give up already. We win!" Adrian called out, grin sharp as a knife.

Silas rested a hand on Andrian’s shoulder, wearing the same smug expression.

"How the hell do you even find me every time? I’m a good hider!" Lucien protested, arms crossed, chest heaving.

"Not good enough for us," Adrian chuckled.

Lucien scowled. Losing wasn’t in his nature, it wasn’t in his blood. He didn’t even care about the reward anymore; it was about pride now.

His gaze dropped to the mud. Maybe... just maybe, if he covered himself with it, he could mask his pheromones.

"Don’t even think about it," Silas warned smoothly. "You’ll ruin that beautiful face. What’s so bad about losing?"

But Lucien just grinned, a sharp, reckless smile. He crouched down, grabbed a handful of mud, and before either assassin could reach his hand—splat!

Both of them froze, faces dripping brown.

Lucien’s laughter rang through the forest, wild and bright. "Eat shit, Twinster! I’m going to win this one!"

He bolted, bare feet pounding against the earth. Behind him, the twins just wiped the mud from their faces and started to laugh.

"Oh, he’s challenging us now," Silas murmured, golden eyes glinting like a predator’s.

Adrian’s lips curved. "Should we let him run? Let him think he’s winning... before we drag him back to hell?"

Silas chuckled darkly. "Cruel. I like it."

They high-fived, the sound sharp as a promise. The wind carried Lucien’s scent; sweet, floral, and taunting. They inhaled, but didn’t chase. Not yet.

After all, the sweetest prey was the one that thought it could still get away.

***

Lucien had been running for five minutes when he finally realized he couldn’t feel the Twinster’s presence anymore.

Relieved, he stopped by the river. The current was strong, the roar of the nearby waterfall echoing around him as he sat on a rock and scooped up water with his hands.

The water was cold and fresh, sliding down his throat and cooling his burning chest. He exhaled in relief, wiping his mouth.

He wasn’t tired yet, he’d been through worse. Years of chasing and killing rats, storming small mafia hideouts, and running from explosions had built a certain endurance.

Still, he couldn’t help but frown, wondering how the hell the Twinster had found him so quickly earlier.

"They’re insane," he muttered, shaking his head as he leaned back against the rock, arms braced behind him.

His gaze drifted to the sky. The clear blue had turned grey, clouds gathering from the horizon like a slow-moving stormfront.

"Ugh, not this. First, I have to hide, and now I have to find shelter from the damn rain." He groaned, realizing it might be time to surrender.

"You guys win! I give up, okay? I don’t want to be drenched and wet!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the trees.

No answer.

Lucien smirked. "Oh? You want to play with me? Alright then, I’ll play along."

He stood and began to walk again, the wind picking up and carrying the faint scent of flowers.

He stopped, turned left, and followed it, curiosity tugging at him.

As he walked, he kept calling out, telling the twins he surrendered, that it was over, that they could stop the game now.

Still, no response. He finally shrugged, laughing under his breath.

"If you want me to win, then fine, I’ll win! But don’t come crying when Leopard decides to decapitate both your heads—"

His voice faltered.

In front of him stretched a field of wildflowers, endless and unreal in its beauty.

Petals of every color swayed with the wind as Lucien stepped forward, his hand brushing gently through them.

The wind scattered blossoms around him, forcing him to close his eyes.

And then, voices.

Children’s laughter. Echoing softly, warmly.

’Catch me if you can!’

’Lucien, stop! Don’t go too far!’

’Ugh, you guys are cowards!’

His eyes snapped open.

He could see them, children running through the flower field. And among them, his own younger self, chasing after the others with a grin.

But at the far end of the clearing stood several men, dark silhouettes waiting.

Lucien’s stomach dropped.

"No... don’t go there," he whispered, but the boy didn’t listen.

BANG! BANG!

Two children fell. The men seized the smaller Lucien, dragging him toward a car before speeding away.

Lucien could only watch in horror, frozen.

"Is this... my imagination? Memories?"

Suddenly, pain ripped through his skull. He clutched his head and dropped to his knees.

His vision pulsed white as fragmented scenes burned behind his eyelids: hands grabbing him, ropes, muffled screams, men closing in.

He couldn’t breathe.

His whole body trembled as cold sweat slid down his temples. "No... stop! Make it stop!" he cried out, voice breaking.

His heartbeat thundered. His chest tightened until it hurt. Terror crawled up his spine, he didn’t even realize the rain drenched his body and the storm was coming.

"Lucien! What’s wrong?!"

"Hey! Look at me! What’s happening to you?!"

The Twinster’s voices. He could see their worried faces but still the pain in his head and chest won’t stop, it got worse even.

Two of them remind him of the children who have been shot.

Lucien barely registered them before his vision blurred completely, darkness swallowing the flower field whole.