Hunting Adeline (Cat and Mouse, #2)

by H.D. Carlton

Then, the blissful numbness I awoke in crumbles, and I lose my breath when all-consuming pain filters in, engulfing my body in absolute agony. God, is this what being alive feels like? It can’t be death. I’d be at peace if it were. And I may have fallen for a stalker, but I’ll be damned if I didn’t land a spot within heaven’s gates. I fucking earned that shit.

This is already so confusing

Scenarios curtail and evolve until I’m a mass of anxiety and desperation.

That word doesn't mean what you think it means

I don’t know why I got tossed into this shit, but they need to take me out of this fucked-up salad of depravity; I don’t belong here. I belong in a salad full of fruits and vegetables. Healthy things that don’t run me off the road and enslave me.

Wtf

My gaze moves to the man next to him; he’s grungy-looking with scabs on his face from apparent drug use.

No offense but how would you know

I’m in a darkened, white room. It’s… sterile in here. Not clean like a hospital, which is where I expected to be, but we’re not in a dungeon, either.

HOSPITALS ARE STERILE YOU WALNUT

Scratchy, white blankets cover me up to my waist, and when I look down, I notice I’m in nothing but a light blue gown. Somehow, that’s the worst part. They can see the evidence of just how cold it is in here.

THAT'S THE WORST PART??

Sensing my intent, Rio snips, “I dare you.” His voice is stern and threatening, drawing my attention to him. “Your pussy will still work regardless, even if you’ve got brain damage.”

Charming

and I notice a man approaching with a deep hood over his head. I can only tell his gender because he’s built like an upside-down Eiffel Tower.

Okay

“Car is ready,” he announces, his voice deeper than the Mariana Trench.

dead

Bitch may be ice fucking cold, but that doesn’t make her immune to my fire.

Ice is literally never immune to fire

She has yet to learn that I’ve never been just a man.

ugh

I lean closer to his ear. “Just think of Claire as your fairy godmother, and this is the pumpkin carriage that’s going to whisk you away off to your princess.” “Or prince,” Jay corrects through gritted teeth. He’s sweating profusely and his eyes are dilated. “I wouldn’t mind either.”

Finally, the bi representation this book deserves

The only alternative would be shooting the gun off until I hit the driver, which could send us careening into traffic and killing us all.

You desperately need to sort out your verb tenses

This is my fault. All my fucking fault.

I mean, duh

Now, I’m in the backseat of a van again with a dark sack over my head, sopping wet, and shivering in my bonds like an old engine.

What

At one point in our lives, we’re all afraid to die. For some, it happens the first moment we fully understand what death means—before depression, anxiety, and other mental health issues arise. For others, it’s before they’ve found something to believe in—whether it’s God or something else that’s spiritual. And there are those who flounder through life, terrified of the day they take their last breath. I think for some, they aren’t so much scared of death itself, but rather, how they’re going to die.

Nat5 folio is that you?

Rick splays his arm out towards the two-story colonial home, presenting the house to me as if I’m at a five-star restaurant, and he’s pulling the lid off my tray to reveal the best meal I’ll ever have. I’ve never been anywhere so fancy, but from the videos I’ve seen on the internet, it looks like a bunch of baby portions of foam and sticks wrapped in meat.

Tf does this mean

Sucking my bottom lip between my teeth, I bite hard as I watch him head towards the kitchen. He’s lucky I don’t bark at him like a dog as I’m tempted to. Anything to make the dickhead think twice about looking at me like that.

This would not make him think twice

I snatch it up and almost squeal when I see that it’s a journal. No fucking way. I just stare. Finding Gigi’s journal inside a wall in Parsons Manor was unbelievable. Something that only happens in movies. But finding another journal inside the floor? Impossible. Fucking impossible.

I mean, yeah

Moments later, heels echo loudly on the wood as Francesca makes her way up the stairs and down the hallway toward us. I guess that’s one comfort in this house—I’ll always know where Francesca is and if she’s coming. She’s definitely no Casper the fucking ghost with those monstrosities on her feet. How many blisters did she have to suffer through before her feet were calloused enough to wear those all day, every day? Twenty? Thirty? Maybe a weird number like forty-two.

What did heels ever do to you

His presence is pure evil, and I just know that when this man dies, he won’t go to Hell. He’ll stay in the fourth dimension, where he’ll continue to haunt and terrorize the living.

You're so weird

Bethany attempts to keep her face blank, but her entire body is rattling so hard, I can hear her bones knocking together.

No you cannot

Luckily, Jay is an actual genius and managed to keep it a well-kept secret from the state.

This is a bad sentence

The phantom in the sky really is a devil. Why else would She make such a gruesome day so bright and sunny? Today is the Culling, and already the house seems to be filling up with chatter. To make matters worse, my body doesn’t feel nearly as broken as I thought it would. My soul? Completely shattered. But at least I can fart without feeling like I’m going to pass out, right?

This is so bad???

Single file, ladies. We must be in a uniform line to greet your potential rapists. Make a good impression, and they may be nice when they rape you.

Sorry this is ridiculous

Feeling the burn of his stare caressing my tender skin,

Girl would you focus please

“The one with the orange hair, does her pussy match, or did she ruin it by dyeing it that color?” another asks, and I have to clench my teeth and bite back a response. Phoebe trembles beside me as Francesca affirms something incredibly personal, her voice even and pleasant. Nasty bitch. “I like that one,” he states. My gaze flickers to him, noting his bushy black brows, tiny eyes, and potbelly. “Her hair will look beautiful wrapped around my fist when she’s sucking my cock.”

Ah, men

Risking a glance behind me, my eyes round when I see headgear settled over their eyes. Night vision goggles. Fuckers. Everything about this stupid fucking game is rigged. “All right, ladies,” Francesca starts. “Let’s go over the rules briefly. You will be given a ten-minute head start. You are required to stay within the maze walls. If caught going outside of them, it will result in immediate death. They will shoot to kill, not shoot to maim. At the end of the maze, there is an open area. If you reach this location, you are immediately deemed safe, and no harm will come to you. If you are still within the maze but have not been shot, and the allotted hour depletes, you are also deemed safe, and no harm will come to you. Is that understood?”

lol what

“How’s it said from The Hunger Games, may the odds be ever in your favor?” a male cuts in, and it sounds like Xavier.

Omggggg this is shit

These men may be skilled in hunting, but what they don't know is that I've been hunted by a far scarier man. I was a mouse caught in a trap before, scared, and helpless as I was taken between the teeth of an apex predator. But I'm not their little mouse, and they are not Zade. And I will never succumb to them.

I mean. You were very much caught before, too.

It’s an abandoned train. A massive row of trailers stretches across the wooded area in either direction, the metal rusted and corroded from nature. My heart pounds and excitement blooms. Escape.

Sure. I, too, see broken down trains and think they can somehow still go places. Also?? They're carriages. Cars, at the very least. Trailers. Pfft.

A butterfly could flutter by, and my dress would fly up like it’s allergic to the winged creature. If I pass gas, it’s over.

You think about farting *so much*

Her brown eyes assess me closely, but the adrenaline has taken hold in my bloodstream, and all I can feel is… elation. Heat has warmed every inch of my body, sinking low into my stomach. If Zade were here… I force those thoughts out of my head before they sweep me away. If I let that happen, I’d be humping the air, and not only would that be fucking embarrassing, but I’m also in the number one worst place in the world to get horny.

Ma'am????????????

I think Addie would sooner rip my balls off before she’d ever kneel at my feet. Lucky for her, I’d gladly kneel at hers. Kiss her little toes while I’m at it, too. Eventually, my mouth would lead up between her legs, but I don’t think she’d mind that part.

Why can neither of you focus???

“But you do sell people’s organs?” I clarify. “Absolutely, but who we sell to provides a service to families in desperate need. People who have been on waiting lists for transplants or those who can’t properly afford it with our current healthcare system. Doesn’t matter if it’s underground, they still go to good people who deserve it. The black market is full of evil, but not all of us are. It’s only necessary we appear that way.”

Wtf is this

Slade turns to me. “Kace used to be a mortician. He’s not a doctor, which is why we went to Dr. Garrison for serious injuries, but outside of his mortuary knowledge, he’s well-versed on how to painlessly put someone to sleep.” “For good,” I say, filling in what he didn’t say. “Yes.” I glance between Ryker and Slade, narrowing my eyes as I figure out what exactly they’re trying to say. Daire is now petting the girl’s hair, zoned out of our conversation. “You assist in suicides.” Slade’s stare turns grave. “Consensually. These are people who have a low quality of life. Whether they’re terminally ill, old and tired, or suffering from other mental illnesses. Whatever their reason, it’s their choice, and they agree to donate their organs. Kace puts them in a deep sleep, extracts the organs, and then they pass. Completely painless.” I nod my head slowly, turning that information over in my head. People often only care about life when it’s inside of a woman’s stomach but stop caring once that life is born.

Look at you on your soapbox.

I never understood why the sickest of humanity go out of their way to appear the prettiest. You can throw glitter on a snake, but the bitch still bites.

This is not how that idiom goes

I can tell that he’s trying to insert warmth into his presence, but it feels like sticking my hand into a fireplace that hasn’t been used in centuries.

?????

He takes a step closer to me, his woodsy cologne burning my sinuses as he invades my space. I want to tell him to get the fuck out of my no-no square, but I can’t imagine that going over well.

Could you just die

“You wouldn’t be able to, even if you wanted to,” he whispers. “You wouldn’t be able to stand. Your legs would be shaking too badly from how hard I fuck you.”

ew

“What the hell is the red room?” I question. Rio glances at me. “A room in the back of the house full of tarp and torture devices. I’m sure you can conclude why they’ve dubbed it the red room,” he answers dryly.

Christian Grey walked so you could run

Two girls are dying tonight, yet all that coats my tongue is the rapture of their glorious deaths.

Wtf does this mean

Turning my attention back to Phoebe, I carefully gather her in my arms, cradling her head in the juncture of my shoulder and curling myself over her. “I will not let you suffer,” I whisper in her ear, desperately and rushed. A hot tear breaks free, burning a path down my cheek. “You saved me, Phoebe. You were so fucking strong and brave, and you will always be my hero. Do you hear me?” “I… I h-hear you,” she chokes, sobs racking her chest. Inhaling deeply, I lunge for a branch in the pit, barely feeling the flames licking at my flesh. Rocco rushes towards me, but it’s too late. I’m jabbing the sharp tip of the branch deep into her jugular. Phoebe convulses beneath me, blood pouring from her neck in rivulets. I hold on to her tightly, but I cannot say the same for my shattering soul. A sob bursts from my throat, and I press my forehead against hers, hardly feeling the blood soaking my skin. Tears of sorrow and rage track down my cheeks, and all I can do is just squeeze her harder, rocking us back and forth as she dies in my arms. “Sleep, Phoebe,” I whisper against her, my voice cracking. “Go to sleep now.” Nearly as quickly as it began, she stills. But I can’t let her go. I weep into her lifeless body, battling with relief that she’s no longer suffering, and despair that she had to die at all. Someone’s daughter died today. And all I can hope is that whoever loved her, will forgive me for being the one to take her from them.

What. The. Fuck.

I smooth out my face, contemplating how I can smile again. “Duh, Addie,” I whisper. “You know how to do it.” I lift the lipstick and place it on the corner of my lip and draw it out across my cheek, curving it up towards my eyes. Then the other side, until a big red smile is painted across my face. The Joker had the right idea, I decide. Feeling slightly better, I cap the tube and let it roll across the floor. Heavy footsteps travel down the hallway and toward my room. My heart speeds up, and I wonder if Francesca will let me keep my smile. Just for a night.

Unhinged behaviour

“What is wrong with you?” she hisses. I brush the strands of my hair out of my face, looking up at her outraged expression. “I’m sorry, Francesca,” I say quietly. “I just wanted to smile.” She huffs. “You need to keep it together. I don’t need another fucking Sydney on my hands. You are mere weeks away from being sold off, diamond. Don’t you dare ruin this for me.” I frown and nod my head, apologizing again. It looks funny with my face painted the opposite. “Wipe that shit off and get ready. Xavier will be here in ten minutes.” Sad. No smiles for me tonight.

Wtffff

He invades my body like a parasite would, an unwelcome tenant that leeches from my life force to feed his own. The sharp point of his knife finally breaks skin, and his blade glides across my stomach, drawing out a sharp yelp. Blood bubbles from the wound, and he moves his hips faster in response. “Fuck, that’s so pretty,” he groans breathlessly. A tear slips past my eye, and I pray he’s too distracted to notice. He only cuts me deeper when I cry. He wants me to writhe beneath the piercing metal and get off on the pain as he does. He wants me to enjoy this, and when he sees that I’m not, it makes him angry. He says I just need to get used to it—I just need to adjust. But I don’t know how anyone could get used to being sliced open like a fucking pig. Another cry leaves my lips when he finds a new spot and starts applying pressure—slowly—as if he’s giving me time to get accustomed. I’d rather he just get it the fuck over with but I think he knows that. He thrusts harder, causing his knife to slip and cut me deep. Pinching my eyes shut, I inhale sharply. Xavier shudders while my soul cracks. I don’t think Xavier plans to keep me for long. How could he when I will eventually bleed out? “Once I take you home with me,” he pants, “I’m going to drink that fucking blood. Dine on it at all hours of the day.”

WHO IS ENJOYING THIS

He snarls, hearing the vacancy in my voice, and buries himself inside me. Though if he thinks he’s deep, I’d hate for him to see the size of Zade.

Ah yes. The alien penis.

It’s also a reminder that Zade may not want me anymore—something I’ve come to terms with already. I never thought I’d want to lose his obsession… but how could I not? I’m filthy now.

Sure, this is the attitude to bring into 2024

Whether it’s because she notes the determination that must be etched into my expression, or the fact that I’m not leaping over the bed to escape.

This isn't a sentence

“I can’t live with the fish, Rio. I don’t like sharks.” Rio’s brows plunge. “The fuck are you talking about?”

An excellent question