33: Are We The Hunters Or Are We The Prey?

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A/N: For convenience, Marie Levesque and Maria di Angelo are the same person in this fic. Which technically makes both Hazel and Nico mixed—but Nico takes after his dad, who is white and looks like a vampire lmao, while Hazel takes after Maria di Angelo, who is black and looks exactly like Marie. So, you know. Just for the sake of explaining the family dynamic here since Hazel and Nico are full siblings in this fic.

NPOV

Track: Game of Survival, Ruelle

Will hits the ground, and my first instinct is to rush forward to try to tear the enemy off of him—but then she looks at me.

She's the spitting image of my mother. Her gold eyes are intense and critical, and she only gives me a once-over before turning back to Will. She tears off his gloves, and I cry out, "Hey!"

Once she's disarmed Will, she quickly gets to her feet and turns to me.

"Hazel," I say, a little uncertain—after all, the Hazel I knew was soft and young and carefree. The Hazel I knew liked plush horses and Disney movies and my mother's lullabies. She loved playing in the sandpit at the park even though she would always get messy.

"Who are you?" she asked—and her tone bites.

This isn't the Hazel I know anymore. More than just time has torn away her youth. This is the kind of fight-or-flight instinct that people learn through experience. Through fear and loss and betrayal.

She's scarred, too. A long mark stretches from her forehead to her cheek, and a few more start at her throat or collarbone, disappearing into her shirt. What has happened to Hazel in these years it took to finally find her?

"You don't remember me?" I ask, my heart sinking. "I'm—I'm your brother. I've been looking for you! I'm Nico, remember?"

Her face immediately turns to fury. "You're my family? Yeah, you shouldn't have admitted to that."

And she lunges.

I dodge the attack, my hands in the air. I have no idea what's happening right now. I had assumed finding Hazel would mean we would celebrate together, and then the three of us could go home and have dinner together, and Hazel and I would shed tears of joy to be reunited—

Hazel tries throwing a punch at my jaw, so I catch her wrist and pull—she loses her balance and falls forward.

"Why are you angry?" I ask, and it comes out loud and afraid. "I'm trying to save you!"

She just screams with fury, and she grabs me by the waist as she falls, taking us both to the ground. My head hits concrete, and I groan. As soon as we're on the ground, she plows a fist into my stomach, and I cough.

"Stop!" I plead. "I'm not an enemy—!"

Her fist collides with my ribs this time. It might actually be broken—pain spikes when I try to move or breathe. Her fists continue to rain down on me, and it takes all my self-control not to punch back—if I'm going to convince her I'm an ally, I can't resort to violence.

A fist to my jaw, and I grunt. "Hazel, please—"

Pain erupts in my shoulder. I cry out, and I can't believe things have gone so wrong. Since when do rescue missions turn into getting beat up by the person you're trying to save—?

Her hands grab my throat now, and the pressure is unbearable.

"What do you want from me?" she hisses, squeezing.

I try to choke out some words, but I can't quite manage it. Breathing is difficult—nearly impossible. She's going to kill me—I can't breathe—!

Will groans and shifts. Now would be a brilliant time to wake up, Solace!

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