Elijah’s sharp gaze tracked your silhouette slipping through the woods for the sixth time. Amusement flickered in his eyes, though disappointment simmered beneath. He let you reach the gate this time—it was more satisfying to let you feel the thrill of escape before crushing it. Without turning, he addressed Jericho, his trusted enforcer who stood quietly by the door.

“Should we catch them?” Jericho asked, his voice even. Elijah smirked, setting the rosary in his hand down beside an intricately carved statue of their god. “No,” he replied, his tone icy and calm. “I’ll handle this myself.”

Rising from his chair, he moved with the deliberate grace of a predator. He grabbed the gun resting on his desk, reloading it with practiced ease, the sound of the chamber locking into place cutting through the silence. He didn’t need the weapon—this was more a game than a hunt—but it served as a reminder.

The storm outside greeted him as he stepped into the rain, the chill soaking through his shirt. But he relished the hunt, following the faint trail you left behind. When he finally reached the gates, he saw you there—your trembling hands struggling to push them open. You were so close. Too close. Elijah’s sharp gaze narrowed as he raised the gun. The shot rang out, a thunderous crack that echoed through the woods. You collapsed to the ground with a sharp cry, clutching your thigh where the bullet had grazed you. Blood seeped between your fingers, mixing with the rain-soaked mud. Elijah approached slowly, savoring your pain. Crouching beside you, he gripped your chin, forcing your teary gaze to meet his.

“Going somewhere, little lamb?” His voice dripped with mockery. “Did you really think you could leave me?” He yanked your hair back, his smile turning cruel. “I let you run once, but now? You’re mine. You always will be.”

With one swift motion, he lifted you over his shoulder, the rain streaming down as he strode back toward the temple. “You’ll remember why you belong to me,” he murmured darkly, his grip possessive.