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So, here I am, watching Victor scratch his head in confusion, wondering out loud why his claiming bite didn’t work.

“Something’s not right.”

And honestly, I can’t help but laugh. It’s like watching a magician who messed up a trick, and now everyone is left wondering what went wrong. But in this case, the trick was supposed to be some mystical bond, and all I got was a painful reminder of my naivety.

He mutters something about it not working as expected, and Zeke, always the voice of reason, asks if Victor even bothered to read the pamphlet. I can’t contain my laughter at this point. The pamphlet, the one that probably no one reads until things go south.

Classic.

But then Zeke drops a bombshell. The trackers inside us aren’t just trackers- they’re pheromone inducers. And apparently, every single thing in the field was a pheromone inducer. I try to wrap my head around it.

I can’t decide whether to be relieved that there’s no mystical bond or irritated that Victor literally took a bite out of me. It’s absurd, and I find myself laughing again. Maybe it’s the sheer ridiculousness of the situation or the fact that life has a way of turning expectations into a chaotic mess.

Victor looks like he’s about to say something, but Zeke beats him to it.

“You’re a f**king idiot, that’s what you are.”

Zeke declares, and for a moment, I appreciate the simplicity of his words.

No sugarcoating, just a straightforward assessment of the situation.

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I look at Zeke, and we share a moment of understanding. The absurdity of it all hangs in the air like a punchline to an inside joke.

Victor finally speaks, his voice a mixture of frustration and confusion.

“But the claiming bite is supposed to create a bond!”

He protests, as if the universe owes him an explanation. I roll my eyes. The universe doesn’t owe anyone anything, especially not an explanation for failed magical bonds.

Zeke shakes his head, a bemused smile on his face.

“Did you even read the pamphlet?”

He asks, his tone a mix of exasperation and amusement. It’s a rhetorical question at this point. Who reads the pamphlet until everything falls apart?

Zeke explains the intricacies of Hunters and Hiders, and how Victor’s claim was nothing more than a physical act with no mystical repercussions. I feel a strange mix of relief and irritation.

at me, his expression a mix of confusion and frustration.

bit her!” he protests again, as if the act of biting should have automatically triggered a cosmic connection. I can’t help but shake

her flesh, Victor. That’s all

tension and absurdity. Victor’s face

tears of laughter, realizing that in this moment, I’ve found a strange

of Victor’s failed attempt at claiming.

a bit woozy. Zeke tears a piece of his hoodie, and without a word, he covers my wound.

on it,” he says, his voice steady. “But not too

confusion etched

and the growing sense of faintness. But Zeke doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stands up, his expression hardened, and grabs Victor

stumbles backward, his hand flying to his nose,

lucky,” Zeke growls, his voice low and

of

adds another layer of tension. to the already

a strange mix of gratitude and

to me, his eyes softening as he sees my bewildered expression. “I’m here, Alina.

steal a glance at

care.

Safe

feel a twinge of vulnerability. But then he returns with a water bottle, offering it

few sips, the water providing a momentary respite from the throbbing pain. Zeke watches me, his eyes a mix of concern and determination. “We need to get you out of here,” he

the world around me blurs, edges fading into a fog of confusion. Zeke’s voice cuts through the haze, urgent

eyes open.” he says, his words a lifeline in the disorienting swirl of sensations. “Come on, I need you to

of Victor’s reckless actions. Zeke’s hand is on my shoulder, a steadying presence in the midst of chaos.

is firm, a lifeline in the growing storm. I

sirens wail, a mournful symphony, and the growls intensify. It’s a cacophony that

Victor scoff, his voice a

and callous. “Just f**k off and leave me alone this time, you f**kers hear

disorientation. I try to nod, but it feels like a heavy effort. The sirens, the growls, Victor’s dismissive words–they all swirl

something, a low growl that matches the ominous sounds in the distance. The world is dimming, the edges

But i cling to Zeke’s voice, the anchor that keeps me from sinking

each note playing a part in the disorienting melody that surrounds us. I want to ask Zeke what’s happening, why everything

and travels far. I’ve heard about certain animals being attracted to it, drawn to the metallic tang that hangs in the wind. And now, as I feel the warmth trickling down

hunter on high alert. We’re not alone. I know it. The forest seems to

to the scent of blood like moths to a flame. In those stories, the protagonist is warned not to bleed, not to become prey

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