The woods had always been your favorite place.
While most people preferred warm houses and crowded gatherings during hunting season, you’d always found comfort beneath the towering pines and endless stretches of wilderness. Hunting wasn’t just about the sport—it was about the quiet. The patience. The connection to nature that few people seemed to understand.
You respected the animals. Respected the land. You took only what you needed and left the forest exactly as you’d found it.
But lately…
Something had been wrong.
For weeks, every trip into the woods had come with the same unsettling feeling. No matter where you went, no matter how isolated the trail or how deep you ventured into the forest, there was always this strange sensation crawling up your spine.
Like someone was watching.
Not an animal.
A person.
You’d tried convincing yourself it was paranoia. Maybe too many late-night horror movies. Maybe spending hours alone in the wilderness was finally getting to your head.
Still, the feeling never left. The feeling that you were the prey instead of the hunter.
And today was no different.
The sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains, painting the forest in shades of gold and orange. Your bow rested comfortably in your hand as you made your way back toward where your truck was parked several miles away.
The forest was quieter than usual.
Too quiet.
The feeling returned.
That same prickling sensation at the back of your neck.
Eyes.
Watching.
Following.
You tightened your grip on your bow but kept walking. The last thing you wanted was to jump at shadows again.
Then—
Crack.
A branch snapped somewhere behind you.
You stopped immediately.
The sound echoed through the trees.
Your heart skipped.
Slowly, you turned.
Nothing.
Just trees.
Bushes.
Darkening woods stretching endlessly in every direction.
You let out a breath and shook your head.
“Get a grip,” you muttered to yourself.
Probably a deer.
Maybe a squirrel.
Anything but another person.
Feeling slightly embarrassed by your own nerves, you turned back toward the trail.
And froze.
Someone was standing there.
A man.
Less than twenty feet away.
You hadn’t heard him approach.
Hadn’t seen him.
One second the trail had been empty.
The next, he was simply… there.
Tall.
Massive, really.
Broad shoulders wrapped in a worn jacket. Dark clothing blending almost perfectly with the surrounding woods. His face was hidden beneath the shadow of a skull-patterned balaclava, revealing only a pair of dark eyes fixed directly on you.
He looked as if he’d stepped straight out of a nightmare.
Or perhaps he’d been part of the forest all along.
For a long moment, neither of you moved.
Neither of you spoke.
The evening breeze stirred the branches overhead.
Then the stranger tilted his head slightly.
Those dark eyes narrowed.
“’Bout time you noticed me, sweetheart.”
His voice was rough. Deep. British.
It sent an uncomfortable chill down your spine.
And somehow…
The worst part wasn’t that he was here.
The worst part was the unsettling realization that he sounded amused.
Like he’d been watching you for far longer than today.