Page 215 of Boys Who Hunt

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Page 215 of Boys Who Hunt

“Wait, don’t we need to prepare or something?” Max asks, following me inside.

“How? How could you ever prepare for Silas fucking Rivera?” I reply.

His mouth opens but quickly shuts again as he raises a finger. “Good point.”

“Let’s go.” I push open the door and look around the pitch-black house. “Hello?”

A loud, muffled scream from upstairs fills the house, and goose bumps scatter my skin.

“Up here.”

That was definitely … Heath.

A tiny sliver of light is peeking through the door to a room upstairs.

Clutching the railing, I walk up the familiar stairs that still haunt me. The last time my feet touched these steps, I was running for my life away from them … and now I’m slowly walking into their trap. Willingly.

All because of that one word.

Gift.

Something about it draws me in like a moth to a flame.

A promise of a life-altering moment … worth the risk of death.

Because what is it that he wants to give me so badly it would make him miss out on his own classes?

I swallow the lump in my throat as I approach the bedroom door. The same bedroom where I hid from them the first time they came to find me.

But now, both Heath and Silas are hovering over the bed like they already found their prey. And it’s not me they’re after this time.

Because on that bed, strapped to each post, are two guys, back-to-back, with their mouths stuffed, and all of their nails pulled out.

All the blood in my veins runs cold.

Not only because of what he’s done to them …

But because I know these two.

Silas glances at me over his shoulder and grins, in his hands a set of pliers still dripping with blood. “So glad you’re finally here. Isn’t it nice to see old friends?”

CHAPTER 52

Silas

She staresat them like she’s seeing two ghosts, and my, oh my, that fucking fear riddling her face is a sight to behold. God, it really gets me going.

I pull the stuffed rag from one of those fucker’s mouths. “Go on, tell them what you told me.”

The guy keeps his bloodshot eyes locked on her. “Please, help me.”

Her lip begins to quiver. “Why? Why are they here?”

“I found them snooping around your home … looking for money … and you.” I tilt my head and watch her reaction, then grab my bat and smack it into the fucker’s knees.

He cries out in pain.

“Stop! Fuck, it hurts!” he shrieks.




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