Chapter 8 The Hunt Begins

Cole Mason - POV

As the psychic signatures hit me like physical blows as Blake's car rounds the corner toward campus. Three distinct hunters, maybe more, all converging on Blackwood like wolves following a blood trail. Emma's power blast from the auction has turned her into a beacon that every supernatural predator within two hundred miles can track.

"How many?" Blake asks, noticing my tension as he helps Emma from the passenger seat.

"Three confirmed. More coming." I scan the shadows between dormitories, my body already shifting into the cold calm that precedes violence. "Professional grade, not campus security."

Emma stumbles against Blake, her face ghost-pale. The psychic backlash from freeing those prisoners has drained her completely. Through our bond, I can barely sense her at all—like trying to hear a whisper through static.

"I can walk," she insists, but her knees buckle.

"No, you can't." I take her other arm, feeling how light she is. "The residence hall has enhanced security. We get you inside, then deal with whatever's coming."

We make it halfway across the courtyard before the first hunter reveals himself. He steps from behind the Gothic architecture of the library, and my blood turns to ice water.

"Hello, little brother."

Marcus looks exactly the same as when I last saw him three years ago—same predatory smile, same expensive suit hiding enough weapons to level a building. Same eyes that have never shown warmth when they look at me.

"Marcus." I position myself between him and Emma. "You're hunting the wrong target."

"Am I?" He moves closer with deliberate casualness. "Forty-seven people saw that psychic flare tonight. Half the supernatural underground is mobilizing as we speak." His gaze shifts to Emma. "She's worth more alive than dead, but that's negotiable depending on how cooperative she is."

Emma tries to straighten, fighting through her exhaustion. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"Brave words from someone who can barely stand." Marcus circles us slowly, staying just outside my reach. "Tell me, Emma, has my brother mentioned his special talent? The convenient memory gaps he claims to suffer?"

"What are you talking about?" Emma's voice carries suspicion despite her weakness.

"Cole's blackouts aren't medical episodes." Marcus's smile turns razor-sharp. "They're a psychological trick he perfected in our family's training programs. He can compartmentalize violence by creating a separate mental state, then forget it ever happened."

I feel Emma's attention turn to me like a searchlight. "That's not—"

"The night we met," Marcus continues, "when those men were following you through the parking garage. Cole didn't black out and mysteriously save you. He made a conscious choice to kill them, then chose to forget doing it."

The silence stretches between us like a wire pulled taut. Emma stares at me, and I can see her replaying every interaction we've had, looking for the lies.

"Is that true?" Her voice is barely a whisper.

I can't lie to her. Not now. "Yes."

"You chose to forget killing them."

"I chose to protect you without letting the violence change who I am when I'm with you." The words taste like broken glass. "Emma—"

"Twenty-six people in the last three years," Marcus interrupts. "All threats to Mason family interests. All carefully erased from his memory so he can sleep peacefully next to the people he cares about."

Blake shifts his weight, calculating angles. But there's nowhere to run with Emma barely conscious.

"What do you want, Marcus?"

My brother reaches into his jacket and produces a sleek silver device that looks like medical equipment crossed with a weapon. "This little beauty can permanently sever supernatural abilities. No more psychic signature, no more hunters, no more danger." His eyes never leave mine. "The process just requires someone psychically bonded to her to absorb the energy backlash."

"It would kill him," Blake says flatly.

"Probably. But Emma would be free to live normally. No more auctions, no more traffickers, no more running." Marcus pockets the device. "One life to save dozens of others. Seems like something you'd approve of, little brother, given your history of self-sacrifice."

Emma's hand finds my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Why would you help me? What's in it for you?"

"Smart question. Let's just say certain parties would prefer you powerless rather than dead. Less messy than a war between supernatural factions." Marcus backs toward the shadows. "Twenty-four hours to decide. After that, the other hunters won't be nearly as generous."

He melts into the darkness between buildings, leaving us standing in the courtyard with his ultimatum hanging over us like a blade.

Emma sways on her feet, and I catch her before she falls. "Cole," she whispers as I lift her in my arms. "I need the truth. All of it."

I look down at her exhausted face, seeing fear and betrayal warring behind her eyes. "When you're stronger—"

"Now." Despite her weakness, her voice carries steel. "If I'm supposed to choose between your life and my freedom, I deserve to know who you really are."

Blake opens the residence hall door, but I don't move toward it. Emma deserves honesty, even if it destroys whatever trust we've built.

"You're right. I choose the blackouts. I choose to forget because the alternative is carrying the weight of every life I've taken." The confession feels like swallowing razor blades. "I became a weapon so the people I care about wouldn't have to."

"Twenty-six people, Cole."

"Twenty-six confirmed. Maybe others I've successfully erased." I meet her eyes. "I compartmentalize the violence so it doesn't poison everything else. So when I touch you, hold you, protect you—that part of me is clean."

Emma studies my face for a long moment, then reaches up with trembling fingers to touch my cheek. "And if I take Marcus's offer?"

"Then you'll be free, and I'll finally stop running from what I really am."

Her eyes close, and I think she's lost consciousness. Then they snap open, blazing with golden light I haven't seen since the binding ritual.

"What if there's another way?" Her psychic signature flares suddenly, cutting through her exhaustion like a blade through silk. When she smiles, it's sharp enough to draw blood. "Marcus thinks he's hunting me. But maybe it's time to hunt him back."