The Mating Run

Chapter 41

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“You think this is justice? Destroying everything?”

Victor snarls, his words a mix of anger and despair.

“It's consequence, Victor. You can’t play with fire and not expect to get burned. | reply, my tone serious.

He grumbles, brushing ash off his hands again. “This won’t change anything, Aline. You can destroy my shack, but it won’t erase the choices we made out there,” he dedares, his bittemess lingering.

| nod, acknowledging the truth in his words. “You're right, Victor. But maybe now you'll think twice before risking everything again.” | say, my voice holding a hint of hope that this chaotic lesson might lead to some reflection.

But Victor continues to grumble under his breath, frustration etched on his face as he sifts through the ashes of his once— standing shack.

| can’t contain my anger any longer. “You don’t get it, do you?”

I scream at him, my voice cutting through the quiet aftermath. The forest, with its ancient trees, seems to echo my frustration. Victor looks up, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of irritation and indifference.

“How serious it was out there! While you were up here having a vacation, people died,” | continue, my words a desperate attempt to make him understand the gravity of our situation. “We started as a thousand, and now we're probably down to just 40!”

Victor rolls his eyes, a dismissive gesture that only fuels my frustration.

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“You always love a good drama, Alina. It’s probably not as bad as you’re making it out to be.”

He retorts, his tone laced with sarcasm. | shake my head, bewildered by his lack of comprehension.

“It's not drama, Victor. It’s reality. People lost their lives, and all you care about is your precious shack!” | shoot back, my anger bubbling to the surface. The forest, with its timeless presence, seems to absorb the tension between us.

Victor brushes off my words with another eye roll. “I had a TV in the shack, your know. | saw what was happening. Everything’s probably just for dramatics anyway.” he quips, his dismissive attitude grating on my nerves.

| shake my head in disbelief. “I know you think this is just some show, Victor. | was like that too. But | know better now. Out here — It’s life and death.”

He remains unfazed, a smirk playing on his lips. “You're always so serious, Alina. Not everything is a matter of life and death,” he replies, his nonchalance infuriating. | can’t fathom how he can be so carefree, especially after what we’ve been through.

“You're just close—headed, Victor. You don’t see the bigger picture,” | snap, my frustration boiling over. The forest, with its ancient trees as stoic witnesses, stands. silent as our clash intensifies.

Victor leans against a charred tree, the remnants of his shack scattered around us. “You're the one who doesn’t get it, Alina. This is just a game. A game I'm playing to win,” he declares, the smirk never leaving his face. I’m dumbfounded by his

stubbornness.

“It's not just a game. It’s survival. And your ‘vacation‘ mentality is putting everyone at risk,” | retort, my words a plea for him to wake up from his delusion. But he remains obstinate, his eyes reflecting a detachment from reality.

The forest, with its enigmatic presence, seems to amplify the frustration that hangs in the air. “You're overthinking it, Alina. Relax, enjoy the show.”

Victor adds, as if the chaos around us is merely entertainment for him. Ill

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| take a deep breath, attempting to calm the storm of emotions within me. “I can’t believe you're still acting like this. Lives are at stake, and you're treating it like a joke!”

Victor shrugs, a careless gesture that only intensifies my exasperation. “I’ve survived this long, haven’t I?” | watch Victor saunter toward the closest camera, perched high on a branch and directed at us..

The aftermath of his burned—down shack lingers around us, yet he seems unfazed, embracing the attention as if he’s center stage in some twisted spectacle. My jaw tightens with frustration as he takes a bow, his movements extravagant, a performance for the invisible audience he believes is watching.

“Hello there, dear viewers!” he announces, his voice carrying an unnatural cheerfulness that grates on my nerves. My eyes ar

| can’t believe what I’m witnessing. Is this really happening? as | glare at Victor, who’s now addressing the camera with a grin that’s all teeth and

charm.

“| hope you enjoyed the little show back there. Alina decided to spice things up a bit.”

Victor then gestures towards the remnants of his shack.

I clench my fists, resisting the urge to march over and silence him.

“Now, | know you all loved my previous shack, but alas, it’s no more, thanks to our dear Alina. So, | thought, why not reach out to my lovely sponsors and see if we can build an even better one? Together, of course!”

| can’t believe he’s asking for sponsors to pitch in after the chaos he caused.

My frustration deepens as he flirts shamelessly with the camera.

“Any sponsors out there willing to contribute to the Victor’s Shack Rebuilding

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Fund?”

The forest remains silent, as if holding its breath, waiting for some semblance of reason to prevail. But Victor, with his toothy grin and flamboyant gestures, remains committed to his charade.

| can’t take it any longer — his flamboyant gestures, his flirtations, all of it feels. like a mockery of the gravity of our situation. With a surge of frustration, | step forward and slam my hand over his mouth, determined to silence him.

“Enough, Victor! You don’t deserve any sponsors. This is not a game; people died out there!” | hiss through gritted teeth, my palm pressed firmly against hist mouth. “It’s not all about you!”

Victor rolls his eyes, his arrogance undeterred. He shoves me away, the force of his movement sending me stumbling backward. “What's your problem, Alina? I’m just trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

| shake my head, frustration bubbling within me. “You're making a mockery of their deaths. This is not the time for your self— centered antics!”NôvelDrama.Org is the owner.

Victor scoffs, brushing off my concerns. “They're not dead because of me. It’s the Mating Run, Alina. There are

fewer contenders now because some have already mated and left. They can’t play the game anymore. It doesn’t mean they died.”

My eyes widen in disbelief.

With a scream of frustration, | step forward and shove Victor, the force of my anger propelling him backward. “This is not a game! People’s lives are at stake, and you're treating it like a joke! They died. It’s truel You said you have a tv up in that shack, but why does it feel like you saw nothing at all! Were you even watching?”

Victor regains his balance, his eyes narrowing as he glares at me. “You're overreacting, Alina.” | take a deep breath, attempting to calm the storm of emotions within me.

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Okay, Alina, take a deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Repeat.

I can feel the frustration bubbling inside me like a simmering pot, and | need to calm down. Victor, with his arrogance and indifference, has this uncanny ability to push all the wrong buttons. But getting mad at him, it won’t change anything. I’ve realized that, especially now, it feels like talking to a brick wall.

“Relax, Alina. Relax.” | mumble to myself, the words a quiet mantra to quell the storm within. Victor continued to prattle on, addressing the invisible audience he believes is watching just for him.

“Now! Let's get back to what's important. Again, all | need is probably two or one! Any sponsors out there willing to contribute to the Victor’s Shack Rebuilding Fund? | will ensure that sponsorships are not taken lightly! Sponsors will receive a sparkling commendation from me to my father, that’s for sure!”

| take a deep breath, attempting to gather my composure. “It's not worth it, Alina. Getting mad at him won't change his mindset,” | mutter to myself, the realization sinking in like a stone settling at the bottom of a still pond.

Victor continues his flamboyant act, gesturing and flirting with the camera. “Now, who wouldn’t want to contribute to this handsome face having a cozy shelter again?”

“Goddess, can you just shut up?!” | can feel the tension in the air, thick and suffocating, as he glares at me with accusing eyes.

“Look what you've done, Alina. Everything’s ruined now!” he seethes, his voice sharp like the edge of a blade. His frustration is palpable, and instead of taking responsibility, he shifts the blame onto me.

I clench my fists, my own frustration reaching a boiling point. “Me? You’re the one who turned this into a circus, Victor. You treat everything like a joke, and now you blame me for the consequences?”

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Victor rolls his eyes, dismissing my words with a casual wave. “All | wanted was to relax, Alina. A few days without my father’s supervision — a miracle for me. But no, you had to ruin it!”

| feel a surge of anger, an indignant fire burning within me. “Relax? People are starving out there, Victor! Hiders were raped and forced into submission. Do you even know that? Do you even fucking care? This is not a vacation; it's a fight for

survival!” He scoffs, his arrogance undeterred. “Survival, drama — it’s all the same to me. I’m just living my life!”

“Your life? What about everyone else? What about Ettie, who had to kill to survive? Our relationship won’t ever be the same again, and all you care about is yourself!”

“Why should | care? I’m not responsible for everyone else. I’m here for me.”

| shove him, my hands pushing against his chest with all the force of my pent-up emotions. “You're heartless, Victor.”

He stumbles backward, caught off guard by my sudden outburst.

The air is thick with tension, and | can feel my fists clenching involuntarily. Victor, with his infuriating arrogance and self-centered attitude, is pushing all the wrong buttons. But | can’t let myself give in to the anger. I’ve got to find a way to calm down, to keep from lashing out and making a bad situation worse.

| glance around at the trees, their leaves rustling in the breeze as if offering some ancient wisdom.

“Breathe, Alina. Just breathe,” | murmur to myself, the words a mantra to ground me in the midst of chaos. | close my eyes, blocking out the sight of Victor’s smug face, and focus on the rhythmic pattern of my breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

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Victor continues to spout his self-centered nonsense, but I’ve trained my ears. to filter out the noise. It’s not easy, but | have to focus on what | can control — my own reactions. Punching him in the face might be satisfying for a fleeting moment, but it won't solve anything.

| glance down at my hands, realizing how tightly they’re clenched.

| steal a glance at Victor, still immersed in his self-absorbed world. The urge to roll my eyes is strong, but | resist. | need to stay focused on my own mental well-being. Reacting to his antics with eye rolls and sarcasm won't help me stay calm.

And just when | thought everything would be fine, when my heart managed to calm down, everything goes to shit. Just as the words are about to escape my lips, a sharp whistle slices through the silence.

I

Both Victor and | freeze, our eyes locking as if sharing a silent understanding that something is not right.

| turn my head to follow the sound, and there, down on the forest floor, is Zeke.

He’s bloodied, with a wild, manic grin stretched across his face. In his hands, he clutches a massive machete, its glint reflecting the ominous intent in his eyes. My breath catches in my throat, and a chill runs down my spine.

Zeke points the machete directly at Victor, the gesture deliberate and menacing. Then, he whispers.

“Finally fucking found you.”