Predator Point

PREDATOR POINT KENDRA MORENO Copyright © 2023 by Kendra Moreno All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Cover by Fay Lane Cover Design & Author Branding Proofreading by Turbo Kitten Industries Formatting by The Nutty Formatter CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Epilogue About Kendra Moreno Also By Kendra Bare your teeth and sharpen your claws, little rabbits. It’s time to become the predator. ONE BILLIE I thought I knew the rules of the game. I haven’t been on Prey Island in months now, but the moment I’m standing in my office with the four men who fought beside me, I’m right back there, running through the trees, my hands covered in the blood of those who dared hunt us. I’ve spent the last four months trying to forget everything but them, trying to heal. I’d almost started thinking they weren’t going to show up and that the time on the island was just a blip in their ocean, a memory they’d rather forget. But no matter how hard I might try, I could never forget them. No matter how badly I tried to scrape the nightmares from my mind. You can’t dispel the nightmares completely when there were happy moments in between them. Creed, Row, Jiro, and Achilles changed a part of me on that island, claimed me there just as I claimed them, and now here they are after four long months, inviting me to join them in our retribution. I thought I knew the rules of the game, the struggle of it, but never has an answer been easier. Now, after their announcement, we stand in this office that I built with blood-stained money, staring at each other awkwardly. I’m not sure what to do, what to ask. Hell, I’m not even sure where we stand. Sure, they came to find me, but that could just be because I’m a valuable tool. No one has said a word about a relationship. And that’s if something like that can even exist in the real world. In a frenzied survival mode on the island, yes, but here, where there’s judgement and the Hound Society keeping an eye on us, it’s difficult to imagine we can just operate the same. We’re five completely different people and society doesn’t like dynamics shifted. I don’t care about society, but. . . it can certainly make things hard. The urge to throw my arms around them is strong. I want to wrap myself around them and hug them so tightly, none of us can breathe, but there are varying emotions in the room even now. Do I hug them? Do I give them space? Do we pretend the part where we fell in love on the island never happened? Row seems genuinely happy to see me, his eyes bright as he stands over on the other side of the desk explaining how he had to hire a private investigator to find me, to find the others. He’s dressed as perfect as always, in clothing that costs what most people make in a year. My eyes don’t miss the tiny little Hound Society pin on the lapel of his suit jacket, the gold of it flashing in the dim light briefly. Creed seems happy but unsure of what to do. His hand twitches toward me as if he wants to touch me, but he stops himself at the last moment, as if he thinks I might rebuff such attempts. I wish he’d just decide so I can be wrapped in his bear hug. He’s dressed in jeans that hug his ass perfectly, boots that belong on a ranch, and a tight-fitting button-down plaid shirt. He cleans up well. My hand begins to shake, so I curl my fingers into my pant leg to hide it. Jiro is as aloof as I remember, mysterious as he stands in the corner perusing my shelves. There are all kinds of knickknacks there, mostly things some of the girls have given me. Crystal, aptly named, collects crystals and keeps bringing me pretty stones to decorate my shelf. I don’t complain. My shelf has never looked better. But now that Jiro is there silently studying it all, I’m self-conscious. They’ve never seen any part of me besides Survival Billie. This is all just as new for them as it is for me. Jiro dressed in a form-fitting suit, foregoing a tie to leave the throat open, revealing hints of the tattoos beneath. His hands are in his pockets, as if he’s at ease, but there’s a tension in his shoulders that keeps the shaking in my hands constant. And Achilles, poor Achilles. He stands against the wall, close to the door, looking uncomfortable. I swear I can see sweat on his brow as he looks everywhere in the room except at me. Like he doesn’t want to be here. Even with the loose beanie on his head, the jeans with rips and tears, and the