One side of Ruelle's body struck the earth with a dull thud that knocked the breath out of her lungs as she fell to the ground. The ache spread through her ribs, but there was no time to ponder on it as Renard's servant screamed for his attention.

"How sneaky of you," the woman laughed. "Sitting up there like a bird and watching us."

Ruelle forced herself onto her feet, wincing as she reached for the fallen crossbow. "Aren't you supposed to be helping us humans?" she asked, her voice coming out strained.

"Why would I?" The woman blinked at Ruelle as if genuinely confused before she scoffed. "If anything, I should only help my master. Not you." Her eyes swept over Ruelle with mocking curiosity. "I wonder if a cut on your face would look good. You are a human like me, there's no need to act high and mighty."

The woman turned her head as if expecting Renard to appear at any moment.

If she ran now, the woman would chase her like a ghost. The only way to fix this was by quickly exorcising the situation. She had promised to fight this for the Slater family, especially for what they had done for her so far.

"Your family is born to kneel. There's no need to struggle but accept your fate," one of the debt collector's voice echoed the back of her mind.

Ruelle's fingers tightened around the crossbow. She raised it, slipping an arrow onto the string, praying under her breath. She tried to remember the angle Lucian had nudged her elbow at last night. Up a little, firm wrist and breathe before releasing.

The woman began her slow advance, saying "I can tell by just looking that you—"

Ruelle released the arrow at the same time. By accident or by luck, the arrow sliced the air and moved right next to the woman's face, close enough that the woman jerked back with a startled gasp.

"You little—!" she shrieked, fury twisting her face as she lunged forward. The woman pulled out another stake she had hidden in her dress.

Ruelle's fingers trembled as she fumbled for another arrow. Her heartbeat roared in her ears, barely managing to keep the bow steady. She then pulled the arrow and released it. This time the arrow found its mark in the woman's shoe and into her foot.

A scream tore from the woman's throat, which was enough to draw every vampire in the forest like wolves to blood.

Seizing the opportunity, Ruelle bolted out of there. Her feet kicked against the ground as uneven breath spilled out of her lips. Sweat clung to her forehead now, and her vision widened with a prey's awareness.

Then she heard it. A horse's neigh, not far from ahead of her.

Her footsteps faltered and her shoulders tightened.

"Move…" Ruelle whispered to herself, though her feet felt as though they had glued themselves to the ground.

One part of her mind tempted her to stay. If she remained where she stood… it would all end. The terror, the running, the humiliation. She would not have to struggle anymore. But another part of her refused the idea. To stop here would be equal to handing her fear over like an offering. To confirm what so many of them believed of her: that she was weak. And she didn't want to give them the satisfaction.

Her foot shifted backward. Then the other. Breath by breath, she coaxed her legs into motion.

And while she fled through the forest, the vampires who had gathered earlier to witness the start of the hunt now lounged at the forest's edge as though it were a festival.

They sat on chairs which were placed under umbrellas that shielded their pale skin from the afternoon sun. Glasses of blood-wine clinked. The guests drank and dined as if nothing in the world were more entertaining than seeing humans run like chickens.

"Seven humans have fallen in the forest, yet only six have crawled back out," a vampiress remarked, shading her eyes with a delicate fan as she peered toward the treeline. "How slow."

"Shall we wager on which unfortunate creature comes out next?" a vampire nearby asked, his voice light with amusement.

"I'll pass. Gambling is unbecoming," Sawyer replied and that only had Lady Maxine turn to look in his direction. A reluctant grin tugged at his mouth and he added, "Well… not on this particular hunt."

"Very unlike you," Lady Maxine murmured, settling back against her chair. "You sound like Dane."

Sawyer's smile deepened. Of course he was conflicted, he thought to himself. His sister's beloved servant was somewhere in those woods and so was Ruelle.

"Wouldn't you be?" he asked quietly.

Lady Maxine leaned back against her chair before speaking, "Not really. "However, you appear to be quite cordial with the little human."

"She has a face like a porcelain doll. I cannot blame Dane for inviting her to his celebration," another vampire chimed in, having overheard.

"Porcelain? I thought she was plain," another vampire said with a bored expression. "Pleasant, perhaps. Nothing extraordinary."

"Please," the previous vampire drawled, lifting his cup lazily. "It is fortunate Lucian sat out the hunt. He would have put an arrow through a human than chase sport. His or otherwise."

Soft chuckles rippled through the row of seats.

"That's what you think…" Sawyer muttered, almost to himself. But Lady Maxine, seated nearest to him, heard it as clearly as any spoken word. The vampiress's eyes sharpened with curiosity and she asked,

"Has Lucian grown soft with humans?"

Sawyer barked a quiet laugh before he replied, "No. He despises them just as fiercely as ever." Just that this human was an exception, he thought to himself. His eyes carefully moved in the direction of the mansion before he looked back.

Back in the forest, Ruelle continued to run as if her life depended on it. Her lungs burned with every passing second. When she heard the neigh of a horse, it was enough to make her vision blur.

She dodged a low branch as the branch was about to smack her across the forehead. Oh God, her mind rambled, if You are listening, I will—

A hand suddenly seized her arm.

Before she could scream, the world spun sideways. Her back slammed into the rough bark of a towering trunk, breath stolen from her lungs. A cold palm clamped over her mouth, swallowing her startled gasp.

Ruelle's heart crashed wildly against her ribs as her vision began to clear and she saw who stood before her. Her brown eyes were wide open as she stared at him.

Lucian loomed before her. His gaze moved past her, almost predatory, like he was listening to something she couldn't. He raised a finger to his lips, signalling her to remain silent, and she nodded in response.

The forest fell silent for a brief moment before she heard the sound of hooves approaching. Ruelle turned her head just enough to see the horse she had lost earlier had returned with another rider. She noticed it was a woman with blonde hair, which was loose and all over her face. But there was something odd about the woman that caused her to frown.

And at the same time, Ruelle heard a whistling sound in the air before an arrow buried itself into the woman's shoulder.

Ruelle flinched.

The next moment, a sharp sound like a bird's call escaped from Lucian's lips. The horse reared, hooves raising high in the air before bolting away with the wounded rider.

What was going on? Ruelle was more than confused and she looked back at Lucian. She then heard a woman's voice.

"Your aim appears… faulty," remarked a vampiress, her words aimed to provoke as her eyes followed the fleeing horse with faint amusement.

"Hardly. I struck the shoulder," Ruelle recognised the voice belonged to Renard, who now surveyed the clearing with narrowed eyes and sniffed something in the air. "Dane's precious guest has been dealt with."

Me? Ruelle mouthed behind Lucian's hand with a stunned expression.

The vampiress beside Renard inhaled through her nose, her expression twisting. "I imagined she was carrying a rare blood. Something refined." A flick of disgust. "She smells dreadfully common-born. Well, I am bored and am heading back to the mansion," and soon she disappeared from sight in a few seconds.

Renard stood there, as though deciding whether to follow the lowly human he had shot. Leaves rustled as someone limped into view and it was none other than his injured maid.

"I saw Lady Angelina's servant fleeing west, Master," she panted.

"Good. He's the last one left," Renard responded and the maid turned to him.

"What about the woman? I would be more than happy to repay the—" the maid began, only to be interrupted.

"You should have retaliated when she attacked you," said the vampire, causing the human servant to flinch at his obvious disappointment. "We need to pin down Angelina's human, and the victory will be ours."

The vampire looked around before he left the place with his servant following him with a limp. When they were out of sight, Lucian withdrew his hand away from Ruelle's mouth and remarked,

"Not as incompetent as I thought."

Ruelle's breath caught. How long had he been watching? She asked him, "What is going on? Why did he think he shot me?"

Lucian lifted two fingers to his lips and whistled, which was a clean and uncanny sound.

"Most of them cheat during games like these," he replied, eyes still sweeping through the trees. "Servants used as bait. Groups hunting together. Heartbeats muted."

"I didn't expect fairness," Ruelle murmured, though she didn't know these would be the tricks.

"So I used a decoy," Lucian continued, his voice calm. "Renard and a few others were going to look for you first."

He nodded toward the horse now circling back into their view that carried the blonde woman slumped over its back, her let down hair hiding her face. And Ruelle's own clothing hanging off the woman's frame. The shawl that Maude had given her last night was draped around the person. The resemblance of the woman was enough to fool anyone arrogant enough not to look twice.

Ruelle's stomach dropped at the thought that arrow should have been in her shoulder.

"You used her—?" Ruelle's voice cracked in disbelief. "Is she alive?"

"Don't trouble yourself over her," Lucian replied in a nonchalant tone, as if the matter were beneath discussion. "For now, you have somewhere else to be."

"I—but she—she is hurt—" Ruelle looked again at the unconscious woman, guilt prickling in her mind. The sight felt wrong, no matter who the woman was. Blood dripped down from the woman's shoulder, falling on the ground. Ruelle's lips parted but her throat tightened.

"Belmont."

Lucian's voice cut cleanly through the panic clouding her mind. Her eyes lifted to his, meeting his fearless red eyes that grounded her thoughts. He stepped just close enough that she couldn't look away.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

She whispered, "T–this isn't right…"

"That wasn't my question," he remarked, his eyes piercing into hers. Then breath trembling, she slowly nodded.

She watched Lucian drag the woman off the horse and onto the ground. The woman's limp body fell, making Ruelle's stomach twist. She couldn't tell if the woman was alive or dead, or why this stranger had been chosen as her double. But Lucian didn't spare the unconscious woman a second glance.

"The game is heading toward its end," Lucian stated, raising a hand toward the reins with patience. "You'll need a ride more than your feet."

His tone was unwavering compared to the sight before her. She placed her hand in his, letting him steady her as she mounted the horse.

"There are only two of you left," he continued. "Most hunters have withdrawn."

Ruelle tightened her grip on the reins and she asked, "What about you?"

"I need to return this one where she belongs," Lucian stated, glancing at the unconscious blonde woman.

Ruelle was tempted to ask Where? and her expression must have betrayed her, because one corner of Lucian's lips tugged upward. She wondered if he would answer her.

They were interrupted by a woman's scream that echoed through the forest, sharp enough to pull Ruelle's attention back to the hunt. She was still inside the game she had volunteered for.

Soon she dug her heels into the horse's sides and urged it forward. As the horse galloped forward, she couldn't help but look back, and when she did, she saw Lucian drag the woman from there. She was aware that though he had grown tolerant with her, it didn't stop his hate towards the humans.

Given Ruelle had heard a woman's scream, she wondered if Renard's servant was wounded or if she was faking it again. She rode away from the scream she had heard, but the trees were thick, and while manoeuvring the horse, she finally came to a pause.

"Argh—!"

Ruelle realised that instead of moving away, she had gotten closer to the scene she had intended to escape. She tried to leave to maintain the distance, but then she heard Renard's irritated voice cut through the trees.

"Are you trying to kill my servant, Angelina?"

"She moved," came Angelina's dull reply. "She's already wounded. Why is she still here?"

Ruelle got down from the horse and took shield behind the thickest tree she could find, pressing her back to the bark before daring a cautious peek. Far from where she stood, she caught sight of the female servant lying on the ground, with an arrow lodged dangerously close to her heart.

"You have grown incompetent. Tch." Renard's expression soured before he turned to look at Angelina. "My servant was injured by the Slater's human. Not by one of us."

Angelina only tilted her head, uninterested in what he was saying.

"Where have you hidden your human? Somewhere safe, I presume," Renard mused, his lips twisting into a cold sneer. Though he believed the vampiress's servant was the last one standing, nothing stopped him from trying to damage whatever she valued. In fact, it was the perfect opportunity.

"He's back at the mansion. He needed rest," Angelina replied flatly.

Renard scoffed, "I hope not. That would mean a penalty. And a rematch, dear." He paused suddenly, nostrils flaring as something drifted toward him on the breeze. "Hm. I smell something familiar… and peculiar."

He inhaled again, slower this time. Before Angelina could answer, another voice cut in, "It must be the wonderful perfume I received last night for my birthday."

Dane stepped into view, running his fingers through his blond hair with theatrical care. He teased, "I will be sure to give you the perfume's name, Renard, as you seem to be a fan of it."

Renard didn't even glance at him. His red eyes swept the trees, narrowing. He murmured, "It's a human. Ah, and who stands behind the tree?" he purred on catching sight of a crossbow peeking from the side of the tree.

Ruelle gritted her teeth, realising she had been found out. There was no point clinging to the tree anymore. Not when her heartbeat pounded loud enough to give her away. So she stepped out from behind the trunk, forcing her legs to obey as she faced the three vampires.

Renard's eyes went wide.

"What the fuck?" the vampire hissed, his gaze quickly sweeping over her shoulders as if expecting to see blood soaking through. "How—?"

Angelina regarded Ruelle with a flicker of idle interest, while Dane, on the other hand, looked almost pleased.

"Look at that, Renard," Dane drawled, crossing his arms. "Your servant collapses, and yet dear Ruelle stands unharmed. I believe," he paused delicately, "that an apology is due."

Renard snapped his head towards Dane. He spat, "Something isn't right. I shot her with my arrow. I smelt the blood. She dropped unconscious—so how in hell is she standing here unscathed?" His eyebrows pulled together, confusion breaking through his arrogance.

"I hope you aren't calling her a witch," Dane drawled with a low chuckle, clearly amused.

But the other vampire didn't share the humour. His expression flattened as he said, "It seems the hunt must come to an end, isn't it?"

Ruelle immediately felt the shift in the vampire's gaze and instinct kicked in before thought did. She lifted her crossbow, an arrow already trembling between her fingers, aimed right at the vampire. A slow, amused snicker escaped from the vampire's lips. He asked,

"You truly believe that you can strike a vampire with that piece of wood? I will snap your neck before you even finish blinking."

"Maybe," Ruelle replied, her voice steadier than she had expected for it to come out. "But it doesn't mean I'll stand here and let you harm me."

She kept the arrow raised, even though she knew he could dodge it. She added, "If you come at me I will shoot."

"A human warning a vampire," Renard echoed, laughter scraping low in his throat. "Has no one at Sexton reminded the Groundlings that a single slip is enough to end them?"

The vampire lunged without another word, all restraint stripped away, intent blazing in his eyes. The instant he moved, Ruelle released her arrow. The arrow buried itself into Renard's collarbone but he didn't slow down.

Just as Renard's hand reached for her throat, Dane seized the vampire's wrist mid-air and shoved him back two full steps, placing himself in front of Ruelle.

"What do you think you're doing?" Dane asked coolly. Then, with a pointed calmness, he added, "Hunting the last standing human earns you a penalty. Surely you haven't forgotten the rules?"

"Last?" Renard scoffed and at the same time Oliver stepped out from between the trees. He pointed, "He hasn't been wounded and the hunt is still going on."

"Are you certain?" Dane tilted his head.

Ruelle caught Oliver lift his hand. A thin needle was pinched through the tip of his index finger, a drop of blood glistening. He said, "I have been wounded by Mr. Dane."

Renard's face flushed with fury and outright absurdity. He demanded, "Are you fucking serious? That doesn't count!"