The Hunt Begins

The Hunt Begins

The phone call had ended, but its echo lingered in the air like smoke that refused to fade.

For a moment, no one moved. The room was thick with tension—so heavy that even the faint hum of the refrigerator felt too loud. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating and gray, while the sour scent of spilled alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke. A single bulb flickered above, casting restless shadows across the room.

Martha stared at Judith as if seeing her for the first time. The calmness on Judith’s face was not human—it was calculated, dangerous, too deliberate to be sanity. Her lipstick was smudged, her hair messy from the long night, yet her eyes carried a frightening steadiness. She looked like someone who had already made peace with the chaos she’d unleashed.

The twins lay on the couch in another room with the door open, still unconscious. Rosy’s hair was tangled and sticky with syrup from when she’d fought earlier, and Ryan’s tiny wrist hung limply off the edge. Their faces were so heartbreakingly peaceful that it hurt to look at them. They didn’t belong in this filthy room that smelled of smoke and fear. They didn’t belong anywhere near Judith Radsford.

Judith poured herself another glass of whiskey. Her hand didn’t shake. She took a long sip before speaking, her voice almost light.
“Well,” she said, her tone oddly bright, “now we know what kind of man we’re dealing with.”

The leader of the men—broad-shouldered, with nervous eyes that betrayed his calm—took a step closer.
“He’s put a bounty on our heads,” he said in a low, shaky voice. “You heard him. Five hundred billion. Half the city will turn on us before morning. He’s the King of the underground and nothing is hidden from the underground.”

Judith gave a slow, mirthless smile. “Let them try.”

Her words made something cold settle in Martha’s stomach. She’d known Judith for years—had seen her angry, vengeful, even cruel—but this was different. This was obsession. Judith wasn’t thinking like a person anymore. She was thinking like a weapon.

Martha moved forward, her patience finally snapping. “You’re insane,” she said flatly. “This isn’t power, Judith—it’s suicide. You’ve crossed a man who owns the entire police department, the banks, the air we currently breathe. You think we can hide from that?”

Judith’s laughter broke the silence, soft and eerie. It didn’t sound like amusement—it sounded like someone laughing at their own funeral.
“I’ve hidden from worse,” she said, taking another sip. “And besides…” Her gaze turned sharp. “It’s not about hiding. It’s about making them bleed. Annie. Alaric. Both of them. They’ve taken everything from me—my peace, my name, my life. I’ll make them feel the same pain I went through. I’ll make them beg on both knees.”

Her voice dropped lower with each word until it sounded almost tender, almost loving in its hatred. The room fell silent again. Even the men who had joined her for money looked uneasy. They were used to greed, to danger—but this was different. Judith wasn’t chasing wealth anymore. She was chasing destruction.

Martha pressed her lips together and shook her head. “You’re going to get us all fucking killed!”

Judith turned slowly, a faint smirk on her face. “Then leave,” she said simply. “You always have a choice.”

But Martha didn’t move. Her eyes went to the couch again. Rosy’s small chest rose unevenly, and Ryan’s brows furrowed even in his drugged sleep, as if his young mind sensed the danger surrounding him. Martha’s throat tightened. They were just children. Innocent, fragile, and caught in a war they didn’t start.

“God help you,” Martha whispered.

Judith’s reply came cold and steady. “God helps those who take what they deserve.”

She turned her back on everyone and picked up her phone again—not to call anyone, but to check the news. Her thumb scrolled lazily, eyes sharp and focused. Already, the ripple had started. Alaric’s voice—steady, commanding, and full of ice—was everywhere. Within an hour, private channels and encrypted groups were flooded with the same message:
₿ 500,000,000,000 for the location of the kidnappers and the twins.

The bounty was real. The city was awake.

One of the younger men swore under his breath and rubbed a shaking hand down his face. “He’s serious. The message is out already.”

Another man, older and more practical, looked toward the door as though expecting it to burst open at any second. “People will come for us,” he said. “Friends, enemies—it won’t matter. Five hundred billion changes everything for anyone.”

The leader turned to Judith. His voice was tight now, his earlier bravado gone. “Mrs. Radsford, we have to move the kids now. We can’t stay here another hour. We have to leave.”

Judith turned slowly, her expression hardening. “Not yet.”

Her tone silenced them instantly. She stood, her shadow stretching long and thin across the floor.
“Not yet,” she repeated, more firmly this time. “We still have the leverage over then. When they start tearing the city apart, they’ll draw attention away from us. That’s when we move. Until then, no one touches them. Not a word, not a whisper.”

Her voice was so cold, so certain, that none of them dared argue again.

The room went quiet except for the faint sound of Rosy’s breathing and the hum of the refrigerator. Outside, a dog barked. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed. The world was already changing, spiraling into the madness Judith had lit with one reckless spark.

Martha sank onto the edge of a chair, her hands trembling. She didn’t say another word, but her mind was racing. She could already imagine it—streets flooding with desperate men, hunters becoming hunted, betrayal traded for survival. Alaric’s influence was unmatched. His resources infinite. And Judith had painted a target not only on herself but on everyone in that room.

Judith didn’t seem to notice. She walked to the window, cigarette in hand, and looked out at the night. The glow of the city lights flickered across her pale face. Smoke curled from her lips, rising in thin spirals that looked almost beautiful against the darkness. For a moment, she looked peaceful—like a woman admiring her own reflection in a mirror.

Her reflection stared back at her, cool and unbothered. A faint smile tugged at her mouth.
“You wanted to play with fire, Alaric,” she murmured. “Now watch the world burn.”

Behind her, Martha looked up sharply. “You really think you’ll win this?”

Judith exhaled a thin cloud of smoke. “Winning isn’t the point. Watching them lose is.”

The words hung in the air like a curse.

Outside, chaos had already begun. The whispers of pursuit were spreading. Men who had no loyalty but plenty of hunger were checking their weapons. Information brokers were awake, selling secrets to the highest bidder. Every corner of the city pulsed with greed and fear.

The leader’s phone buzzed again—another message, another offer. He didn’t read it aloud, but the look on his face said enough. They were being hunted. Already.

Judith didn’t flinch. She stubbed her cigarette against the windowsill, leaving a dark mark on the paint. “You should all get some rest,” she said quietly. “Tomorrow will be louder.”

Her tone made it sound like she was talking about the weather, not the war she’d started. She set the whiskey glass down and adjusted her jacket as if nothing had happened, as if the world wasn’t beginning to collapse outside.

No one slept that night. The men stayed close to the door, their guns ready. Martha sat near the children, brushing a stray strand of Rosy’s hair away from her face, her heart breaking silently. Ryan’s fingers twitched, his lips moving faintly as if whispering something in his sleep—perhaps his mother’s name. Martha didn’t want to leave them with Judith when she was that unstable so she stayed.

Judith, meanwhile, stood by the window until dawn, her eyes fixed on the horizon.

When the first light touched her face, she smiled faintly. The city below was waking, restless, hungry. News vans were already rolling. Online channels were boiling over with speculation. Someone somewhere had already killed for information. It was only beginning.

Judith turned from the window and glanced at the sleeping children.
“Now,” she said softly, almost tenderly, “let’s see how far they’ll go for you.”

No one answered. The men avoided her eyes. Martha pressed her lips together, silently praying—not for Judith, not anymore, but for the two little souls caught in the middle of her madness.

Outside, engines roared to life. Drones hovered overhead. The hunt had begun.

And in that dim room smelling of smoke and fear, Judith Radsford—beautiful, broken, and entirely consumed—smiled to herself, unaware that greed always eats its own.