The Mating Run

Chapter 44

Claim Confessions, you know, I’ve had my fair share of them.

Whispered words, stolen glances, promises lingering in the air like fragile threads waiting to snap. I’ve danced in the realm of crushes, dipped my toes in the waters of fleeting affections, but none of it ever felt right. It’s like trying to fit pieces of a puzzle together, forcing them to connect when they just don’t click.

I've dated a few guys, shared laughter and secrets, held hands in the moonlight.

Yet, it always felt like | was watching someone else’s story unfold, like | was an outsider peering into a world that didn’t quite belong to me. The words of affection sounded hollow, the gestures devoid of the depth | craved. It was all surface—level, like scratching the surface of a vast ocean without ever diving into its depths.

There were confessions, genuine ones, | suppose. Sweet words whispered under the stars, promises of forever that evaporated like morning dew. | tried to reciprocate, to feel the warmth of those confessions seeping into my soul, but it was like trying to grasp smoke with bare hands-elusive and intangible.

Crushes came and went, like passing clouds casting fleeting shadows. I’d catch. myself daydreaming, imagining a connection that went beyond the superficial exchanges. Yet, when reality struck, those crushes proved to be mere illusions, dissipating like mist in the morning sun. | felt like an echo in an empty room, my confessions bouncing off the walls, unheard and unanswered.

It's not that | didn’t want love. | yearned for it, ached for a connection that went beyond the surface, a bond that echoed in the chambers of my heart.

But with each failed attempt, each relationship that crumbled like a fragile. sandcastle, | became more convinced that love, true love, was an elusive creature, always just out of reach.

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That’s why | joined the Mating Run.

It wasn’t some desperate attempt to escape loneliness or an Impulsive decision made in the heat of the moment. It was a conscious choice, a deliberate step into the unknown. The Mating Run held the promise of something raw, something real.

No more whispered confessions that melted like sugar in the rain. No more half-hearted connections that left me yearning for more.

| didn’t want the High Council Elders to hand me a partner like a gift-wrapped package, someone whose heart didn’t beat in sync with mine. | craved a connection that was forged in the crucible of survival, where every shared breath and every stolen glance held the weight of significance.

It was my way of saying, “I won't settle for something that doesn’t set my soul on fire.”

| wanted to find something worth meaning, something that would shatter the monotony of half-hearted connections. | didn’t want another relationship that felt like a placeholder, a convenient arrangement to stave off loneliness. | wanted to find someone who understood the language of scars, someone who had tasted the bitterness of defeat and the sweetness of victory. The Mating Run was a canvas painted with the brushstrokes of survival, and | was ready to embrace the chaos, ready to find a connection that transcended the superficial.

Laughter bubbles nervously in my throat as Victor's taunts hang in the air.

| expect Zeke to refute his statement, to deny any romantic feelings and put ant end to this twisted game. But Zeke remains silent, his gaze fixed on Victor with

an intensity that sends a rush through me, a peculiar mix of confusion and something else | can’t quite grasp. Victor, reveling in the discomfort he’s caused, laughs and grabs my chin again.

His touch is possessive, and a shiver runs down my spine. He tilts my head to the side, exposing my neck, and a sense of vulnerability washes over me. The Mating Run has already thrust me into a nightmare, and now I’m entangled in a web

1/6 Claim of personal conflicts that seem to escalate with every passing moment.

His canines graze my skin, and | tense, uncertain of his intentions. The sensation is unsettling, and | can’t help but feel a surge of fear. Zeke, however, growls at Victor, a low and menacing sound that cuts through the charged atmosphere.

Victor, undeterred by Zeke’s warning, licks my neck in a slow, deliberate motion.

The gesture is possessive, a claim that leaves me feeling exposed and vulnerable. | glance at Zeke, searching for some sign of reassurance or protection,

but he remains locked in a silent confrontation with Victor. “What's the matter, Zeke? Can't stand the thought of me having a little taste?” Victor taunts, his words dripping with disdain.

Zeke’s growl deepens, a warning that goes unheeded. His gaze never wavers from Victor, a silent challenge that seems to intensify the simmering tension. | catch a glimpse of something in Zeke’s eyes, an emotion | can’t quite decipher.

Is it anger? Jealousy? Or something else entirely?

Victor licks my neck again, his eyes locked onto Zeke.

“You know, Alina, this game just got a whole lot more interesting.”

“V-Victor—Stop-!”

“Your little crush is showing, Zeke. Better be careful; someone might just snatch her away.

Zeke’s jaw tightens, his fists clenched at his sides. The tension between them escalates, a volatile energy that threatens to erupt at any moment. | find myself torn between the conflicting forces, unsure of where | stand in this intricate dance.

Victor, emboldened by the rising tension, leans in again, his lips brushing against my ear. “Enjoy the show, Alina. It’s only just begun.” he whispers, his voice sending a chill down my spine.

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| expected Zeke to deny any romantic feelings, to put an end to this twisted game, but his silence speaks louder than words. A peculiar rush courses through me, a strange mix of confusion and something else that | can’t quite grasp.

Victor grabs my chin again. His touch is possessive, unsettling, and | find myself teetering on the edge of fear and a strange, unnameable thrill. He tilts my head to the side, exposing my neck, and the vulnerability of the position sends a shiver down my spine.

| can’t quite put my finger on it. Zeke and |, we're like fire and ice, two forces that shouldn’t mix. Yet, here we are, navigating the unpredictable currents of whatever this is. It's confusing, you know? | look at him, and there’s this unspoken understanding, a connection that defies logic. And that scares me.

| never expected Zeke to deny the affection, to brush it off like it was nothing. It’s not like | expected a grand declaration of love or anything, but a simple “No” would have sufficed. Instead, he met my gaze with a silence that spoke volumes. And in that silence, my heart décided to take a detour, racing like it had somewhere urgent to be.

Why is that? Why did his lack of denial make my heart beat faster? It doesn’t make sense. Zeke and I, we’re not supposed to be here, looking at each other like there’s some invisible thread tying us together. We tried to kill each other, for crying. out loud. It’s not the stuff fairy tales are made of; it’s more like a twisted plot ina

dark novel.

I've been trying to make sense of it all, to unravel the threads that connect us in ways | can’t comprehend. Zeke and I, we're contradictions walking on two legs. Every reason we shouldn't be together makes more sense than any reason we should. It’s like staring at a puzzle with missing pieces, trying to fit them together when they just don’t click.

We clashed blades in the early days of the Mating Run, a deadly dance of survival that should have ended in bloodshed. | stabbed him, and he stabbed me, yet here we are, sharing glances that linger a moment too long. It’s like the universe has a sick sense of humor, pairing two adversaries in a dance neither of us

expected.

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He tried to kill me, and | tried to kill him. It’s a simple fact, a reality we can’t escape. The Mating Run was a brutal stage, and we were players in a deadly game. Yet, in the midst of the chaos, something shifted. | can’t explain it. It’s like trying to describe a color to someone who's never seen it.

Zeke got sick, weaker than | had ever seen him. It was a vulnerability | hadn’t anticipated, a crack in the facade of strength. | could have left him there, bleeding and broken, but | didn’t. Instead, | found myself nursing him back to health. It wasn’t a conscious decision; it just happened. And in those moments, as | watched over him, a strange connection formed.

The logical part of my brain screams at me. It tells me that this makes no sense, that | should be wary of the man who once aimed to end my existence. But the heart, the stubborn heart, doesn’t care about logic. It beats faster when our eyes meet, as if it knows something | don't.

And that terrifies me.

The air hangs heavy with tension as Zeke and | lock eyes, caught in the web of Victor's twisted game. Victor, the tormentor, revels in the discomfort he’s sown, his malicious laughter echoing through the charged atmosphere.

“Look at these two lovebirds,” Victor sneers, his eyes flickering between Zeke and me. | feel a surge of frustration, but Zeke’s stoic expression remains unchanged. The unspoken tension between us adds to the palpable energy, leaving me on edge.

Ashiver courses down my spine as Victor’s cruel grip tightens on my arm, pulling me forcibly towards the nearest camera. The forest's oppressive atmosphere amplifies the weight of the impending ordeal, and | can feel Zeke’s silent frustration beside me. Victor's sadistic grin widens, transforming his face into a grotesque mask of malevolence.

The camera looms before us, an unblinking eye capturing our every move, broadcasting our vulnerability to an unseen audience. Victor's voice, dripping with macabre enthusiasm, pierces through the tension-laden air.

“Watch real close, folks, because I’m about to hit two birds with one stone.” 4/6

His words hang in the air, ominous and foreboding. The unseen audience, voyeurs to our suffering, awaits the spectacle Victor is about to unfold. | glance at Zeke, his jaw clenched in restrained fury, and | can sense the collective frustration radiating from him. We're prisoners in Victor’s twisted game, and escape seems more elusive with each passing moment.Copyright Nôv/el/Dra/ma.Org.

Positioned before the scrutinizing lens, | feel exposed, stripped of any semblance of privacy. Victor revels in the attention, relishing the power he holds. over us and the faceless viewers on the other side of the screen. The cruel reality of the Mating Run rears its ugly head, and | brace myself for whatever sadistic act Victor has planned,

The camera’s unblinking gaze magnifies the discomfort, intensifying the unease that courses through me. | catch a glimpse of my reflection on the lens, the fear in my eyes mirroring the tumultuous emotions within. Zeke, standing beside me, emanates a quiet strength despite the frustration that simmers beneath the

surface.

Victor positions me with a calculated cruelty, ensuring the camera captures. every detail of the impending spectacle. His voice takes on a theatrical quality, his tone laced with anticipation and a perverse sense of enjoyment. Zeke’s eyes lock onto mine, a silent communication passing between us. His frustration mirrors my own, and | can see the determination to protect etched in the lines of his face.

| feel the warm brush of Victor’s breath against my exposed neck, a stark contrast to the searing dread that courses through me. Amoment frozen in time, Victor’s malevolent intentions materialize with grotesque precision. His sadistic grin widens as he tilts his head, revealing a set of sharp canines.

“Now, let's give the viewers a show they won't forget.” He opens his mouth, baring his canines, and in an instant, sinks them into the sensitive skin of my neck.

I scream.