Surrogate for the Alpha Prince in a Coma novel Chapter 23

Chapter 23

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Lillian’s POV

Clara didn’t stay for conversation. After having delivered her warning, she walked away from me, leaving me standing confused in her wake.

She could have been saying something just to trip me up, to cause me to make needless mistakes during the hunt, but I wasn’t so sure. Clara might have hung out with Ophella, but she had never actively participated in the worst of the bullying. Unless this was some new mind game, I didn’t think Clara was being disingenuous/

There was little I could actually do to prepare for trickery, other than dropping out of the event, which I wasn’t going to do. But I supposed now, I knew to watch my back.

Stay with the group, Grayson had told me. I wondered now if I wouldn’t be in more danger with the group than I would be on my own.

I spoke nothing of Clara’s warning to Grayson himself, not when I returned to his room later that day, or any day after, up to and including the day of the hunt.

The servants had prepared a uniform for me of loose leather armor. At the event itself, I would be provided with two guns, though I was allowed to pack any knives that I liked.

Standing in Grayson’s room, I tried to find a place to holster the knife. I settled for on my belt, though then I struggled with the ties.

“Here,” Grayson said. He took the holster from my hands and set about tying it on his own. His fingers moved with deft precision, going through a motion he had done a thousand times before.

I watched as he worked, not brave enough to lift my gaze to his eyes. When the laces were secure he smoothed them down, his touch pressing indirectly against my hip.

My breath caught. He stepped back.

“Don’t be late,” he said.

Whether he meant to the event or on my return, I wasn’t sure. “I won’t be,” I said.

Nodding, he turned away from me, and just like that, I was dismissed.

The Prime Beta walked with me to the event. He didn’t say a word to me, I was fairly certain that he didn’t like me. But I appreciated his presence all the same, knowing he was an extension of Grayson and Grayson’s will.

Grayson, I knew, wasn’t overly fond of me either, but he at least seemed somewhat invested in keeping me alive. That wasn’t nothing.

The event began in the field behind the gardens on the outside of the palace. The Prime Beta walked me to the edge of the garden. From that point on, only the women were allowed.

“Thanks,” I told him. He had no reaction, staying still as I continued walking forward.

I had to walk across a portion of the field to get to the tents where the others were. As I went, I had a feeling like I was marching to the gallows. This feeling, unfortunately, was becoming something of the norm for me, an old and tired friend.

I wasn’t going to die here though, no matter what Ophelia and the others had planned. I was a survivor, and they were going to see that here today.

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No one paid me any mind, not even as I approached the tents. The other girls were armed, so I searched some time for the armorer. Finally, I found the tent with the armaments. I gave my name to a woman with the clipboard, and a specific set of weapons was pulled and provided to me.

A rifle and a handgun, each numbered.

“You have to return them after the event,” the woman with the clipboard said. “Don’t lose or break them.”

It seemed unusual to use guns when we were werewolves, but I’d already learned the rules for the event prohibited shifting. We were to use human weapons here, to show a connection to the old ways with the new. Everything, it seemed, was symbolic.

Fortunately, I had some basic hunting skill, having trained back home while I had been ignored.

Weapons in hand, I hurried to where the rest of the group was waiting at the forest edge. The Queen was there, atop a white horse. She had no obvious weapons on her. I didn’t know if she was participating or simply / overseeing the event.

“Ready!” the Queen announced, raising one hand. “Begin!”

The core group moved forward, with only a few brave girls veering off to the left and the right. Many of the women seemed to have no interest in actually hunting, chatting as they carried their guns incorrectly. I didn’t say anything as their fingers were nowhere near the trigger and likely wouldn’t be. They carried the guns by the stalks, as far away from them as physically possible, like it would pain them to hold them closer.

I tried to stay with the group, as Grayson had advised, but once Ophelia and her group noticed I was there, the mockery quickly became too much.

“Careful you don’t shoot yourself,” Ophelia said, laughing. It could have been a joke, perhaps not. But the very real possibility of a gun “misfire” heading in my direction had me veering off from the group a moment later.

I’d rather take my chances with the animals than Ophelia with a gun.

Away from the group, it was easier to focus. To listen to the woods and what it offered. To find tracks in the mud that the others had overlooked.

Quietly, I lowered myself to the ground and followed the tracks. I pressed out my senses, trying to locate the creature. From the prints, it had to be a boar, and a sizeable one at that.

This would be a good hunt, albeit somewhat dangerous. A deer would have been safer prey. Boars had tusks and weren’t afraid to use them.

But a boar kill would be much more impressive for the sake of the hunt. If I could bring back a trophy that impressive, maybe I could earn a place at the top of the competition. Maybe the Queen and others would see more worth in me than as just a womb.

Maybe Ophelia would finally stay quiet. Though I doubted even bringing back the largest prey in the forest would save me from her ire. Still, it would be good to rub this kill in her face, if nothing else.

Silent as I could be, I followed the tracks to a small clearing by a creek. There, a massive boar stood at the waterbed, drinking his fill.

Setting aside the pistol, I lifted my rifle and took aim. Holding my breath, I lined up my shot and pulled the trigger.

The gun crackled, the metal end bowing out with force, like a small explosion took place in the barrel. The force of it knocked me down on my ass.

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The boar raised its head, massive tucks curving like long bony daggers from either side of its wide mouth. It followed the sound of the noise straight to me. Seeing me, it huffed, clopped one foot on the group three times, then rushed forward, ready to gore me.

D

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