Truth is that for me, running is not about my feet pounding against the pavement or the dirt, or the feeling of pull in my muscles, or the shock of each impact against the ground. It’s a feeling. It’s the pure happiness that fills me as the wind messes up my hair, the adrenaline pumping in my veins as I jump from a roof to another. 

For me, running has little to do with the ground. But all about the thrill of falling from meters just to make a miracle recovery and change course midway, the knowledge that I’m in complete control and the freedom it brought along. 

It’s easy to forget one's worries in the sky. 

And even easier to erase anything that wasn’t my competitive streak. 

Once Tim started to run, I allowed myself to view him as a rival. An obstacle. And thus, I tapped his shoulder (gently) and sprinted towards Ran. 

You see, racing in a Hunt is not about who gets to a place sooner than the rest. No, it’s about acrobatics, tricks, and tapping the others with enough force to bruise or push them from a building… In short, a dangerous game of tag. 

And as I jumped from one roof to another… I realized that I don’t really remember the last time I had so much fun. 

…

Ran is vaguely impressed that Touma’s omega can follow. Timothy’s moves are less graceful and you can see the slight trembling on his limbs but it's still impressive for someone who has spent the last ten years as a civilian. 

But well, he had a reputation back in those days, didn’t he? The Copy-Cat of the first Division. 

Back then, when Strays was known, Timothy’s name was always joined to the one of his late Captain. Now, that was a name more than familiar to Ran. Difficult to not be when Touma had it tattooed on his tight. 

Although it is complicated to focus on the omega when Touma is smiling with pure, utter glee reflected on his face. 

Ishmal, he looks lovely tonight. 

…

Ran’s movements are fluid like water and I’ve always been a little jealous of his flexibility. Well, his and Shun’s. It should be illegal to be able to do a split in the middle of a fight without sweating. Gods know it’s unfair as fuck. 

He practically dances around me, avoiding being hit. 

“I’m going to punch that smirk out your face.” The soft growl is two-parts playful, one sincere. His smug smile does make me want to punch him. 

“Oh, you certainly gonna try.” 

I may not have punched the smirk off but the pang of delight that flared in my chest when it fell was the same; Ran dropped to dodge a kick that would have knocked him out otherwise. Golden eyes going big and a flick of fear appearing on his scent, though, it was gone faster than a blink. 

Tim’s eyes were full of mirth, of satisfaction. 

I tapped Ran’s side, taking advantage of his surprise, and whistled sharply to mark my win. My smile grew bigger as Tim met my high-five with a grin of his own. 

“You make a lovely distraction.” Tim giggled, intertwined his fingers with mine. He pulled me close and I bent obediently for a kiss, drinking greedily the nectar of his lips. Closing my eyes just like a fairytale princess would. 

Ran chuckled, somewhere to our right. 

“That he is.” Ran agreed, bitterness dripping from his words. 

But when I opened my eyes, his expression was more amused than anything. “Shall we, then? Now the games are over.” 

“After you, Kyden.” 

We quickly joined the others, who had stood at a respectable distance, watching the game proceed. It was not exactly a tradition but close enough and thus, Drake knew to let it be. As unsavory as it may appear to others, it was normal to me. Expected. Welcome, even. 

Anything to distract me from the ghosts and the painful grip they had on my soul. 

Anything to not see Tim’s blue eyes full of sorrow. 

Jealousy may be an ugly sentiment, but Gods, it was useful. And I was not above using it to keep Tim’s mind focused on the present.

In that line of thought, Visla had been the answer to my prayers as dangerous as his actions had been. 

 A big evil for the pack to tackle, a way to move on for the grieving and gain a small sense of victory in a sea of sadness. 

“Maren.” Nick gasped. 

There was a man dressed in black guarding our prey. This Maren was taller than me but shorter than Drake, slender, delicate in his features but his dark eyes were sharp. Dangerous. Dressed on clothes that would not be amiss on the higher-ups of society he felt out-of-place amongst these humble homes. 

“Nickie.” His voice was deeper than what I was expecting. The name rolled nicely on his tongue, making the flash of recognition even more evident. 

Nick was so tense a puff of wind could have shattered him. 

Drake bared his teeth, dragging him forcefully to his side. One arm holding his waist while the other was pressed around the back of his neck, half-covering the mating-mark that was proudly displayed there. 

Uncertainty filled the air, all of us holding our breath as it looked like anything could spark a full-of-altercation. Remember what I was saying about jealousy? Well, this was not what I meant. 

Men. And we used to think Betas were the most level-headed of the three biologies just a few decades ago. Ha! As we are not as territorial and possessive as any Alpha or Omega, and ready to throw hands on the top of it. Case in point, this moment right here. 

Thankfully Shun was the first to actually move, baring a tight smile. “Greetings, ‘Mar.” 

Maren looked away from Nick and his posture relaxed, expression twisting into a sneer. “You’re late.”

“Our sincere apologies. Preparations took longer than what we were expecting.” 

“I will add it to your tab.” 

“You say it as if you hadn’t done it already.” Ran adds, reaching forward. Clapping arms instead of hands, a more familiar greeting reserved for friends. “But that’s fine. We know your time is money.” 

“Money you enjoy.” Maren huffed, arching an eyebrow. 

“And will continue to enjoy once this is over.” 

“Well, I would hope so. Otherwise this would be even more a waste of time.” 

While this conversation was taking place, I leaned against Tim. A frown taking over as I examined the scene in front of me. There was a story between Nick and this Maren, ex-lovers, I would bet. But that wasn’t the interesting part. Oh, no, the interesting part was that Leo had obviously taken him as a part of his organization if he had this close relationship with the Jin. 

Visla, Ran and Shun, Maren. They all had some convention to the pack. 

It was a curious coincidence in the best case, yet I had a feeling there was something else at play here. And my heart hurt as I imagined the reasons Asahi could have chosen them as additions to his inner circle, because there was no doubt they had been close. Not enough to be pack, this was easy to see, but companions at the very least. 

How lonely was he?

Did he find some solace among them? Or were they all shadows and twisted reflections of other people? Did he hate them? Did he love them? 

All questions that would never be answered. 

“Maren and Nick were mated when we met them. They were brought in under Peter’s divisions after the Purple Dragons defeat.” Tim shared, eyes narrowed on Maren, his voice barely a whisper. “Maren left before Leo disbanded the gang. It broke Nick’s heart.” 

Well, that explained the tension. 

“You have no soul-marks.” Drake’s voice cut the pleasantries. 

Maren returned his gaze at him, cold and aloof. “No, I don’t.” 

“That means you’re not participating.” I added, raising my voice. “We kindly inform you that your presence is not welcome here. Leave.” 

A Hunt was a private affair, after all. 

And slum-rats were not known for being welcoming to outsiders. In fact, we tended to hate them. 

Maren showed he was a smart man and took the warning for what it was, four to one, his odds to get out of this in one piece were bad. He carefully schooled his expression and pressed a fist against his chest. Spun and left. 

Once he was gone, our attention was stolen by the wriggly thing on the ground. Visla, tied and gagged. Poisonous green eyes shining with hate as he met my gaze, muffled screaming getting lost under the wool in his mouth. 

“Do you want to do the honors?” Ran asks, kicking Visla to shut him up. 

There’s really no love between them, huh. 

“Well, as the affected part, yes, I would like the honors.”

“Just making sure, Butterfly.” Ran’s smile had too many teeth. “One can never be sure how politics are inside a pack, you know? Better to ask than to assume and offend someone.” 

“Touching concern, truly.” Tim sneers. “But undeserved. Touma is my partner, he doesn’t need permission to act as he sees fit.” 

I turned an adoring smile to Tim, seeing him this bothered was adorable. The not-so-hidden warning made it even sweeter. Useless, but cute. ‘Cause I had one priority in this life and that was him. His happiness. And anything else could go to hell for all I cared. 

Shun swatted at his brother’s shoulder, hissing like a cat to show his displeasure. Ran pouted but obediently put another velvet bag, this one smaller than the last, green and shiny. 

“What’s that?” Tim asked from behind my shoulder, curiously peering at the contents. “Cocaine?” 

“No, not exactly. It is a drug but it’s not addictive.” I explained, pouring the entire thing on my palm. It was 20 g at most. More than enough. “It’s from the same plant that you get narrow-ashes but this one is from the roots instead of the flowers. It helps to ensure the Hunters' safety.” 

A very important detail to consider, especially when most of us Hunted pedophiles or abusers, and to make it worse we did it when we were children. 

“I see.” Tim says, even is clear that he doesn't.

“It messes with the coordination of the target.” Drake adds, coming closer. 

“Among other things.” I agreed. 

I knelt and blew the powder right on Visla’s face. 

He had tried to avoid it by shaking his head as fast as he could, eyes wide in a way that told me he knew what awaited him and exactly how fucked up he was. It made me happy. He deserved to know, to suffer after the shit he had tried to pull. 

Targeting Tim was unforgivable. 

Creation is hard, cheer me up by comenting!