Beautiful Lies (Breaking Belles #2) - Alta Hensley Page 0,24

and I did not want to know. In fact, I was actively trying not to think about it.

I’d started to ask how I could “win” the game—could I outlast them until morning or—

But Sully had shaken his head at me and grabbed for my wrist in warning. And that’s when I understood. This was never meant to be a fair game. There was no way for me to win. There was only losing for me in this game—being caught and “blooded”.

The game was seeing which of the big strong men chased me down as trophy for the night.

I felt sick.

Especially now that I was out here running for my life as the baying of the dogs was followed by the long horn blast signaling that my twenty-minute head-start was over.

Shit! I was behind schedule from where I wanted to be by now.

Because I knew something those big, bad men chasing me down on horses didn’t: this little fox had a few tricks up her sleeve.

I headed into the trees and yanked off the stinking cloak, supposedly a kindness to save my tender skin from the elements.

But I’d been warned. In reality, the leather had been sprayed for added scent, a giant neon sign to those trained hunting bloodhounds.

As if this whole thing wasn’t already rigged—a multitude of Order members being on freaking horses with scenting hounds to help them run down a single girl, naked, barefoot in the woods.

But no, they tried to fool us “foxes” by giving us the cloak, ostensibly part of the tradition and to make us feel less naked. When really it was just a hidden ruse to be able to find us quicker because of the scent they sprayed on it without telling us.

My fury at the whole situation made my motions quicker and more focused.

I worked a small area, rubbing the cloak against every tree trunk I could.

“Ow,” I hissed. Fuck. I’d stepped on another goddamned branch twig in the darkness, and it hurt like a mother on the soles of my bare feet. I was trying to step as carefully as I could, while, ya know, fleeing through the woods.

Focus. Don’t get mad about what you can’t control. It was the mantra of my whole life, right? I should be good at it by now. I bit my cheek against the pain in my foot and balled up the secretly-scented cloak. Then I tossed it up into the tree branches of a towering pine above me as high as I could.

It fell back on my head. I glared at it, but only for a second. Then I threw it again, with more force this time. It caught in the branches. Thank God. Though I doubted God had anything to do with this mess I was currently caught in.

I glanced upwards, but like I’d hoped, the cloak was lost among the darkness blanketing the branches and sprays of dark needles.

Then I ran hell-for-leather toward the lake, feeling the buttplug every second of the way. It was just impossible to sprint with a fairly large-sized buttplug shoved up your ass and not feel the freaking thing.

Aiming for the lake meant I was running diagonally back toward the direction the thunderous hooves were coming from. It was crazy. This was nuts. I was nuts. What the hell was I thinking? This was a crazy plan.

It was the only plan.

They want to blood me, remember?

Fuck. I squeezed around the plug in my ass and ran even faster. Thank goodness at least there were no thorns on the well-groomed lawn that extended a small bit into the surrounding forest. Meticulous landscaping for the win.

I focused on the path ahead. No distractions. No distractions. Dear Lord, this was my only chance. One crazy shot in a million.

I wouldn’t be so completely sure of my plan if the note hadn’t told me what to do.

The note… thank God for the note.

I prayed it hadn’t been just another plan leading me straight to a torturous doom. Because with these sadistic motherfuckers, a girl never knew. I could only take a leap of faith.

Finally, the lake came into view in the distance. The surface reflected some twinkle of light from somewhere, maybe the house even further in the distance.

Time for that leap of faith.

Sully had been in a bad mood ever since the box arrived after dinner earlier tonight. I think we’d both been looking forward to a quiet evening in. We’d settled into something resembling a routine. After three weeks it