Page 143 of Boys Who Hunt

I grab the knife stuck in the dude’s head and rip it out, ramming it into the asphalt in an effort to save myself from being hauled away.

Motorcycle guy chucks one of his bloodied knives right at the fucker who’s grabbed me, and it punctures his neck near the base of the skull, severing the connection to his own brain.

He collapses on the ground while I crawl away to a safer spot.

“What the fuck do you want?!” one of the other guys yells at Motorcycle guy.

All I can do is gape at the massacre in front of me.

Motorcycle guy straightens his back, muscles clearly rippling through his outfit. “Touch her, and it’ll be the last fucking thing your fingers touch on this goddamn earth before I wipe you off it.”

Wait a minute … I recognize that voice.

He swings his knife around like it’s a toy. “Now … who’s ready to die?”

“You motherfucker, you’ll pay for this!” one of the men yells at Motorcycle guy.

Two, three, four guys all come at the stranger at once, but he dodges their attacks like he’s done this a million times before. He shoves a knife into the first guy’s temple, then pulls it out to slice the second one’s face from ear to ear.

But a third one approaches him from behind, and I scream, “Watch out!”

I snatch the knife from the ground and attempt to chuck it at the third guy.

Too late.

The guy cuts him with a butcher’s knife from the back, jamming the knife straight through his visor, shattering it to pieces.

I squeal in response, worried he’s hurt, but in a millisecond while he turns to face the fucker, his green eyes find mine in the dark while red streaks of blood roll down his sharp nose. Those black-and-white hairs fluttering around his forehead make me hold my breath.

Is that…?!

He rips the butcher’s knife out of his visor and jabs the guy straight in the heart.

“Fuck…” the guy groans before collapsing.

The fourth one’s neck is sliced open, and blood sprays everywhere.

All of them fall to the ground while Motorcycle guy is covered in their blood from head to toe.

The road in front of me is littered with bodies, and I barely believe what I just saw with my own damn eyes.

An absolute slaughter.

My heart is going a million miles an hour.

But what surprises me the most is the thrill in my heart at the sight of vengeance over the people who tried to take me.

Motorcycle guy walks up to me, and I take a few deep breaths as he towers over me.

“Silas?” I mutter in disbelief.

He squats in front of me, the knife still firmly clutched in his hand, as he finally removes the helmet. “Nice to see you too, twig.”

I’m too stunned to say a word.

Silas Rivera came to save me?

My eyes scan his face and flutter to the knife in an attempt to decipher the meaning of this.