They Hunted Me as Prey, So I Became the Warden Who Hunts Alphas

At midnight, the western gate opened like a mouth.

Cold wind poured through the iron bars. Beyond them, the academy grounds fell away into forest, abandoned courtyards, and ruined buildings left from Lunaris's first century. Red moonlight glazed every roof and branch.

Thirty-two F-Class students waited inside the gate.

No weapons. No phones. No coats.

Only black tracking bands and ten minutes.

Magnus Blackwood stood on the wall above us, gray pelt stirring in the wind. Highborn students crowded the parapet behind him, already flushed with the promise of violence. Some carried silver-tipped spears. Others wore partial shifts, claws pushing through their gloves.

Cassian was not among them.

Neither was Rhys.

"When the horn sounds," Magnus called, "run."

A girl with cropped dark hair moved closer to me. "Eli says you have a plan."

I glanced at the thin boy from the assembly. He looked apologetic.

"I said she sounded like she had one," Eli whispered.

"I'm Mara Quinn," the girl said. "I can pick locks, climb stone, and keep my head when people scream."

"Useful."

"What's your plan?"

I looked through the gate.

The western grounds had been designed for a slaughter. Gravel paths made footsteps loud. Bare courtyards offered no cover. The forest beyond was laced with iron fences that forced prey toward the old buildings.

"Stay together until they release the first wave," I said. "Then split into groups of three. Make them choose between targets."

"They all want you," Eli said.

"Exactly. I'll pull the first pack away. You two get the others to the greenhouse. Stone walls, glass roof, three exits."

Mara frowned. "And what happens to you?"

"I stop running."

The horn sounded.

The gate slammed open.

Panic tore through the F-Class line. Students rushed into the night, colliding at the narrow opening. Someone fell. I dragged him up by the collar and shoved him forward before the crowd could trample him.

"Move!" I yelled.

We crossed the first courtyard with the moon burning red above us. The tracking band on my wrist pulsed once every few seconds, warm enough to feel through my sleeve.

Behind us, Magnus began counting.

"Ten minutes," he called. "Nine."

He was not counting minutes.

He was counting seconds.

"He lied," Eli gasped.

"Run faster."

The first howl rose before we reached the trees.

The sound multiplied across the wall. Iron gates crashed open. Boots and claws struck stone behind us.

I pushed the nearest students toward the greenhouse path.

"Go with Mara!"

"Violet-" Eli began.

"Now."

I tore off to the north.

My tracking band flashed bright red.

The hunters changed direction as one.

Their footsteps followed me into the dark.

I vaulted a low wall, cut through a dead garden, and crossed an ornamental pond on a line of slippery stones. A spear struck the water where my ankle had been.

"Prime target!" someone shouted. "North garden!"

I reached the abandoned academic wing with three hunters close enough for me to hear their breathing. The nearest door was chained. I grabbed the chain with my healed right hand and pulled.

For one terrible second, nothing happened.

Then heat flickered beneath my palm.

The rusted lock glowed, cracked, and fell apart.

I slipped inside and shoved the door closed.

The old wing smelled of dust, wet wood, and forgotten paper. Moonlight leaked through stained glass. I ran past collapsed classrooms until I found a supply closet and tore a mop from its hook.

The plastic head snapped against a radiator after three strikes. I ground the broken shaft against a stone stair until the end sharpened.

The hunters entered the corridor.

"Follow the band," a boy called. "She's close."

I moved into the abandoned library.

Rows of rotting shelves leaned over one another like drunk soldiers. I crouched behind a fallen bookcase and slowed my breathing.

Boots stopped outside.

The brass doorknob turned.

The door burst inward.

A broad boy with gray fur along his jaw stepped through first. I recognized him from the front rows, Garrick Stone, a Western pack heir who had laughed when Magnus announced the Hunt.

His yellow eyes found me immediately.

"There you are."

I rose with the sharpened mop handle braced against my hip.

Garrick looked at it and laughed. "A stick?"

"Come closer and find out."

Two shadows moved behind him.

"Magnus wants her alive," one hunter said.

"He said alive earns the full reward," Garrick answered. "He didn't say undamaged."

He dropped onto all fours.

I waited until he lunged.

Then I planted one boot against the bookcase and drove the sharpened wood forward.

It buried itself beneath his collarbone.

Garrick screamed. His momentum carried him halfway up the shaft before he twisted aside and ripped it from my hands. Blood sprayed across a shelf of ruined books.

"You stabbed me!"

"That was the idea."

He broke the mop handle across his knee.

The other hunters entered. Silas Vane, tall and narrow-faced, circled left. A younger boy named Nolan Reed blocked the door.

"No weapon now," Silas said.

I backed toward the shattered windows.

"You can still walk away."

Nolan laughed. "From a human?"

"From the fire."

Silas sprang first.

I thrust out my right hand.

Nothing happened.

His claws reached for my throat.

Fear struck hard enough to wake the thing beneath my ribs.

Heat detonated through my arm.

Crimson light slammed into Silas's chest and hurled him across the room. He crashed through a shelf, hit the far wall, and disappeared beneath a rain of books and splintered wood.

Garrick and Nolan froze.

The glow in my palm lit their faces.

"What is she?" Nolan whispered.

"Not worth dying for," Garrick said.

They ran.

I listened until their footsteps faded, then leaned against a desk and dragged air into my lungs. The blast had come faster this time, but it had taken something with it. My knees shook. Heat crawled up my arm in painful waves.

A metal groan sounded above me.

I looked up.

The iron grate over the ventilation shaft bent outward.

Screws shot from the plaster.

The grate fell, followed by a dark figure who crashed onto the library floor in a shower of dust.

I raised my burning hand.

The figure rolled onto his back and swore.

Rhys Calder looked up at me through a curtain of red hair.

"Before you set me on fire again," he said, "you should know there are twelve hunters behind me."