Hunting the Perfect Predator

"Caught a toptier fish last night. Bubbleeye. A hundred pounds." My brow furrowed. I stared at Miles's open fishing group chat. Bubbleeye? That means goldfish.

Who the hell catches a hundredpound goldfish? I know zero about fishing, but absolutely nobody fishes for goldfish. I scrolled down. Someone tagged Miles. "Miles loves bubbleeyes.

The one he keeps at home is toptier too. A hundred and five pounds. Eyes even bigger." Ice spiked down my spine. Total red flag. They aren't talking about fish.

I step on the scale every morning. I weigh exactly one hundred and five pounds. Miles constantly makes "jokes" about my body—tiny waist, massive rack.

Another tag pinged. "@Miles, you gotta be sick of eating the same fish by now. Time to bring her out. Let the bros get a taste." Miles replied instantly. "No problem.

I'll set it up tonight." My chest tightened. I stared at the screen, waiting for the next text. The monitor flashed. He forced a remote logout from his phone.

Seconds later, my phone vibrated. Miles's name lit up the screen. "Baby, you free tonight?" His voice dripped with honey. "The guys are getting together.

You're coming with me." Chapter 1 I went into the office two hours later than Miles. A data emergency hit right after he left, so I cracked open his laptop on the kitchen island.

His desktop messaging app logged in automatically. After firing off my files, curiosity hijacked my brain. I clicked his messages open. Nothing. Blank screens.

He cleared his chat history every single time he logged out. He had just forgotten to disconnect last night. After reading that sickening thread, my stomach roiled.

The implications painted a horrifying, twisted picture in my head. Then, my phone shattered the silence. I scrambled to grab it.

Miles's overly sweet voice bled through the speaker. "Baby, you free tonight? The guys are getting together.

You should come with me." His last message in that group chat echoed in my skull. "I'll set it up tonight." My pulse hammered against my ribs.

Disgust gave way to pure panic. "Tonight…" I choked out the word. "I can't tonight. Work is a nightmare. I have to pull some overtime." I spun a quick lie to blow him off.

There was no way in hell I was sleeping in his bed tonight. "Actually, it's going to be super late.

I'll just crash at my own place." Thank god I hadn't broken the lease on my apartment yet. I needed that sanctuary until I figured out what the hell was going on.

Dead silence stretched over the line. "Oh," Miles finally sighed. "That's a shame." Chime. The deafening Windows startup sound blasted from the laptop. My lungs seized.

My trembling fingers had slipped. I hit Restart instead of Shut Down. My heart jumped into my throat. Did he hear it? Would he know I saw the group? What would he do to me?

The line stayed quiet. He didn't mention the chime. We exchanged a few more meaningless words before he hung up. I dropped the phone. Cold sweat coated my palms.

I needed a cover story. My cloud sync files had definitely popped up on his screen. Asking for his password was the perfect alibi to prove I hadn't seen anything else.

My fingers flew across my phone. "Hey, had to borrow your laptop for a work emergency. Any password on it?" He replied immediately. "Nope.

All yours." Before bolting out the door, I deliberately left my coffee mug and a stray hair tie on the counter. Everything looked perfectly normal.

Walking to the office, my heart was still pounding. Was that "fishing group" really what I thought it was? What did they mean by taste? What was Miles planning?

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Miles again. "My buddy's girlfriend bailed, so dinner is off. We're going fishing instead. If you get off work early, come hang out.

I'll teach you how to night fish." A location pin dropped into the chat. I tapped it. A riverbank. Not isolated, but dark enough. My stomach churned. Was this a trap?

I stared at the screen for a full minute before typing. "Got it. We'll see how work goes." I made a terrifying choice. I was going to that riverbank.

And I sure as hell wasn't telling him. Chapter 2 I forced myself to stay at my desk, watching the clock tick agonizingly toward ninethirty before finally hitting FaceTime.

Miles answered on the second ring.

I angled my phone, forcing the harsh fluorescent office lights into the frame. "I don't think I can make it," I pouted, injecting exhaustion into my voice. "You guys have fun." The screen showed him exactly where he said he'd be.

The dark river flowed behind him. Several fishing rods jutted into the frame. A legitimate fishing spot. "Alright," Miles soothed. "Next time. Go home and rest after you finish up.

We're going to be out pretty late, so I won't bother you." I ended the call. Slammed my laptop shut. Grabbed my bag. My Uber dropped me off near the pin drop just before ten.

The riverbank wasn't off the grid, but the streets were dead. A thick tree line hugged the water. Half the streetlights were busted.

Darkness swallowed the area, revealing only the faint silhouettes of a few figures and a parked SUV. The wind howled off the water. The biting chill raised goosebumps on my arms.

Panic clawed at my throat, but a sick, morbid curiosity dragged my feet forward. I crept closer. The shadows and my black hoodie offered perfect camouflage.

I slipped into the edge of the tree line. Through the branches, Miles came into focus. He sat on a folding stool behind his rod, shooting the breeze with the guys.

The wind carried snatches of their conversation to my hiding spot. "Sucks tonight," a guy said. "Your girl and Evan's girl both bailed.

We could've fired up the grill." "What can you do?" Miles shrugged in the dark. "She's slammed at work. We'll take a raincheck." "You owe us, man. You're hosting next time.

Lock the date in." "You got it," Miles said. The tension bled out of my shoulders. They were just talking. Normal, boring guy talk. I was acting insane.

The "fishing group" was exactly that—a fishing group. Even if they threw around some gross lockerroom texts, they were just dumb guys. I hovered in the darkness. Should I step out?

How the hell would I explain sneaking around the bushes? A female voice cut through the wind. "Yeah, Miles! Kyler says you always brag about how gorgeous your girlfriend is.

Bring her out. I just moved here, and I don't know anyone.

Maybe we could be besties." She had to be one of the girlfriends from the group. "I'll let her know," Miles laughed. "She just moved here this year too.

You guys will definitely hit it off." My doubts were swept away. There was a girl here, and they sounded like they were getting along well without any problems.

I shifted my weight, ready to step out of the trees. I had my excuse queued up—I wrapped up early and wanted to surprise him. I lifted my foot.

The guy sitting next to the girl—Kyler—stood up. He scanned the dark perimeter. My foot froze midair. "Alright, boys.

That's about enough time," Kyler announced. "Place is completely dead.

Time to prep the catch." "Prep the catch?" The girl's voice pitched up in confusion. "What catch?" My brow furrowed in the dark. None of the three men answered her.

A low, guttural snicker vibrated through the cold air. Kyler leaned down, pressing his mouth directly against the girl's ear, and whispered. Chapter 3 The girl jerked back.

She shot to her feet. A rag materialized in Kyler’s fist. Before a single scream could tear past her lips, he clamped it over her mouth and nose. The girl crumpled.

Air punched out of my lungs. My blood ran cold. Every sick, twisted theory about that group chat slammed back into my skull. No. It was worse. So much worse.

Kyler and another guy grabbed her arms. They dragged her limp body toward the parked SUV. Miles stood up. My hands shook violently. I needed to help her.

My fingers fumbled into my hoodie pocket and ripped out my phone. I swiped open the camera app. Catch them. Record it. Call 911. My ringtone blared through the silent woods.

My heart almost stopped. My thumb mashed the volume button, killing the sound in a fraction of a second. Too late. Miles whipped his head around. He stared directly into my shadows.

I spun around and bolted. Branches whipped my face. I tore out of the tree line and onto the asphalt just as a taxi rolled down the empty street.

I wrenched the door open and threw myself into the backseat. I risked a glance out the rear window. Nothing but pitchblack trees. No one followed me.

I finally let out a long breath, only to realize my entire body felt weak. I slumped against the cheap leather seat. All I could feel was my heart pounding violently in my chest.

I wiped a layer of cold sweat off my forehead. The static in my brain finally started to clear. Flashing back to the woods and those sick group texts, I knew my gut was right.

I wasn't crazy. I wasn't paranoid. Miles and his friends weren't just disgusting. They were predators. A fresh wave of nausea hit me. A lingering dread washed over me.

If I hadn't opened his laptop this morning. If I hadn't read those messages. I would have gone with him tonight. I would be the one getting dragged into that trunk. The girl.

I grabbed my phone to dial 911. My thumb hovered over the screen. I didn't press it. I didn't hit record in time. I had zero proof.

Would the cops even believe a frantic girl in the middle of the night? What if they already drove off? What if my ringtone spooked them, they dumped her, and then played dumb?

I'd get arrested for filing a false report. Cowardice coated my tongue. I just wanted to survive. I dropped the phone onto my lap. The screen lit up. Three missed calls. From Miles.

Bile rose in my throat again. The real nightmare hadn't even started. Did he see me? The ringtone only lasted a second. But he knew my ringtone. Did he connect the dots?

Three backtoback calls meant a massive red flag. He suspected something. What was his next move? My throat closed up. I couldn't breathe. I definitely couldn't call him back.

I sat paralyzed in the moving car. I just had to pray. Pray the noise scared them into letting her go. Pray Miles was still in the dark about me.

The cab driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "What's a girl doing out here all alone this late?" he asked, his gravelly voice breaking the silence. "You're sweating bullets.

Out for a run?" "Yeah," I breathed out, staring blankly out the window. "Just running." Chapter 4 What the driver said next stopped my heart. "You gotta be careful, miss.

That area ain't safe after dark." My head snapped up.

My eyes blew wide in the rearview mirror. "What?" "You must not be from around here," the driver grunted, keeping his eyes on the road. "We had bodies turn up in those woods a few years back.

Girls walking alone. Raped, murdered. Word is it was more than one guy, but they never caught 'em. Place is a ghost town at night now." My mind blanked.

The blood completely drained from my face. My shaking thumbs pulled up Safari. I typed in the name of the riverbank. Headlines instantly populated the screen. Cold cases.

Violent assaults. Unsolved. Could it be Miles and his friends? Was this their twisted reality hiding in plain sight? Was I actually sleeping next to a serial killer?

I shoved my phone down, nausea twisting my gut into tight knots. The driver caught my pale reflection in the mirror and dropped the subject, probably afraid he was scaring me.

The cab jerked to a stop outside my apartment complex. I quickly thanked the driver, scrambled out, and sprinted up the stairs.

I slammed my front door, threw the deadbolt, and flipped every single light switch in the living room. Only then did my lungs remember how to draw in air.

Before I could even catch my breath, my phone vibrated.

Miles. "Baby, how come you didn't pick up earlier?" His smooth voice filled my ear. "Did I wake you?" "No." I forced my vocal cords to stay steady. "I just got home." The second the words left my mouth, I instantly regretted it.

I just gave away my timeline and my location. "Oh?" Miles paused. "Wanna grab a latenight bite? We just wrapped up.

We're actually not too far from your place." My stomach plummeted. "I'll pass," I stammered, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. "Overtime kicked my ass.

I'm exhausted." "Baby, you sound out of breath. Did you walk home?" My pulse hammered against my throat. "Yeah." "Your apartment is miles away from your office.

You walked the whole way?" I mentally cursed myself.

My brain scrambled for a lifeline. "The firm is hosting a charity 5K next month," I lied, the words spilling out in a panicked rush. "I took the bus halfway and jogged the rest.

Trying to get some miles in." "I really need a shower," I blurted out before he could dissect my story, and immediately ended the call. The silence of the apartment was suffocating.

I collapsed onto the cheap fabric of the sofa, sucking in ragged breaths. Did he know? Was he testing me? He didn't push the issue, so maybe my lie held up.

I dragged myself into the shower, letting the scalding water wash off the cold sweat. I actually missed my roommate.

I had originally moved into Miles's place because she had practically moved her obnoxious boyfriend into our apartment. But they were out of state on a road trip this week.

I was alone. Out of pure habit, my fingers flipped the deadbolt on the bedroom door before I crawled under the duvet.

I thought the adrenaline would keep me wired, but pure, crushing exhaustion dragged me under almost instantly. Hours later, a sound dragged me out of the dark.

A faint, metallic click coming from the front door. Chapter 5 The front doorknob rattled. Metal scraped against metal. Someone was picking the deadbolt.

The lock on our cheap apartment was ancient. It creaked loudly every time the handle turned.

My roommate and I almost begged the landlord to replace it, but we got used to the noise. We joked it was our builtin alarm system. A burglar? No.

Nobody robbed this rundown complex. My roommate? Impossible. She left on her road trip yesterday. She wouldn't be back at three in the morning. That left one option. Miles.

He knew exactly where I lived. He practically memorized the layout. And a lock this pathetic? A tensecond YouTube tutorial could bypass it. Adrenaline shocked my system.

I bolted upright in bed. I didn't dare touch the light switch. The blue glare of my phone screen read 3:15 AM. Cold air hit my sweatsoaked skin. I shivered violently.

The scraping stopped. The screeching hinges probably spooked him in the dead silence of the hallway. But he didn't leave. No footsteps retreated. My throat closed up.

If it was Miles, he already knew I was at the river. The phone calls. The questions. He was stalling me. Two choices. Call 911 or run. We were only on the third floor.

The rusty fire escape and window grates made the climb down doable. I crept to the window and peered through the blinds. I yanked myself back.

The SUV from the riverbank idled right across the street. The fire escape was a death trap.

Kyler or the other guy could be sitting in that driver's seat right now, watching the shadows. Staying in this room meant a body bag. Time ran out. The metallic scratching resumed.

He figured out I wasn't waking up to the noise. The lock tumbled. The heavy front door groaned open. My pulse beat frantically against my eardrums. Calling the cops took too long.

I scanned the dark room. Nothing. No weapons. If Miles walked through that bedroom door, I didn't stand a chance. Terror forced my brain into hyperfocus.

My bedroom opened up to a tiny balcony. It practically touched my roommate's window. A rusted AC unit sat right between them on a narrow concrete ledge.

Whenever my roommate locked herself out, she scaled that exact ledge to get back into her room. It was my only way out. I gritted my teeth. One last glance out the front window.

The SUV's cabin remained pitch black. Nobody was looking up. I slipped silently through the balcony door. I swung my leg over the railing and stepped onto the AC unit.

My sneakers touched down silently on her balcony. Heavy footsteps crossed the living room—and halted right outside my bedroom door.

Chapter 6 I pressed my spine against the wall in my roommate's bedroom. I locked my jaw, terrified even the sound of my own breathing would give me away.

My ear flattened against the cold drywall. The doorknob rattled next door. A pause. Metal ground against metal. A tiny, sharp clink hit the floorboards. Clack.

Miles wasn't picking my bedroom lock. He was unscrewing the whole handle with a screwdriver. If the deadbolt didn't stop him, a cheap interior lock didn't stand a chance.

Wood groaned. My bedroom door swung open. The whole apartment fell into a dead silence. Fabric ripped through the air.

He tore the duvet off my mattress. "Huh." A low, amused hum vibrated through the wall. Harsh yellow light flooded my bedroom. Then the living room lights clicked on.

A sharp blade of light sliced under the gap of my hiding spot. It offered zero comfort. Miles dropped the stealth act. Heavy boots prowled across the hardwood.

Cabinet doors slammed shut. He was tearing the place apart. Then, the footsteps stopped. My roommate's bedroom was the only door left closed. Violent tremors wracked my body.

My teeth chattered so hard they ached. A desperate, pathetic prayer looped in my brain. Leave. Think I'm gone and just leave. He didn't leave. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. A wave of despair instantly washed over me.

I muted the ringer, but the violent buzzing against my hip sounded like a chainsaw in the deadquiet apartment. Miles heard it.

Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed across the living room. They halted inches from the wood separating us. "Baby." His voice dripped with sick, playful affection.

He tapped his knuckles lightly against the door. "We're playing hide and seek? That's so cute.

I love it." The mask was off. "Let me in, baby," he crooned. "You played a little game with me tonight. Now I'm playing one with you. But time's up.

Game over." I was so terrified that I couldn't even speak. My frantic brain scrambled to fake a man's voice, to pretend my roommate's boyfriend was right beside me.

Miles shattered that delusion instantly. "I know your roommate went on a road trip. You told me yesterday.

Did you forget?" A sharp, metallic scrape came from the lock. "I'm coming in, baby." I wanted to slap myself for being so stupid. Retreating wasn't an option anymore.

I had to fight, or I was leaving this apartment in a trash bag. I scrambled backward into the pitchblack room. My hands swept frantically over her desk.

My fingers snagged on a heavy, solid handle. A steel claw hammer. Her boyfriend used it to hang a mirror two days ago. They forgot to put it away.

I gripped the hammer tightly, my whole body tense. Clack. He hadn't just been talking. He was unscrewing this lock the entire time. Miles kicked the door.

It blasted inward, slamming against the drywall with a violent crack before bouncing back. He stepped over the threshold, his massive frame blocking the only exit.

The light switch sat across the room. He squinted into the gloom, relying on the ambient spill from the hallway. His eyes locked onto the heavy wardrobe near the entrance.

Then, a sharp, deafening crash of shattering glass exploded from the floor. Chapter 7