Page 239 of Boys Who Hunt

Can you walk?

Max signs to me again.

I nod.

He helps me up and signs once more.

I believe you.

Tears make my vision cloudy, but from the corner of my eye, I spot the barrel of a gun coming from the hallway. I try to scream.

Too late.

It happens so fast.

One flash and Max is on the kitchen floor, bleeding from a gunshot wound in the back.

I grab his face.

Max, please! Get up.

He leans up to sign.

Can’t. Take Cora. Run.

I sign back to him.

You’re hurt. Can’t leave you.

So he signs back.

You should. I love you. Stay safe.

Tears roll down my cheeks, but I still get up, grab Cora, and run like hell. Through the smoke, through my tears, through the pain in my legs, through all the horrors I’ve endured in my lifetime, I run, and no matter how far I have to go to keep her safe, I will get there, no matter the cost.

Her little hands hold me tightly. Despite everything we’ve been through, she still trusts me enough to take her to safety, so I will.

I jump over the bodies littering the hallways and bolt outside into the fresh air, where I heave and cough to get the smoke out of my lungs. Still, I keep running across the grass and the pavement, all the way to the locked gate.

Behind me, Stefano is catching up.

“Shit!” I hiss.

I put Cora down and grab a gun from one of the dead guards, then shoot off the lock.

I kick open the gate, grab Cora’s hand, and pull her with me toward Heath’s car. I tug at the door, and surprisingly, it opens. The key is still inside, probably so they could make a quick escape.

I jump in and put Cora on the passenger’s seat, then close the door, and hit the gas.

Right as that fucker Stefano runs up to the gates.

More flashes go off, and I can feel the car vibrate from the gunshots going into the metal as we drive off.

My heart is racing as fast as the car as I try to bring us to safety, but where the fuck do I go?

In a blind panic, I drive toward the only place I once deemed safe; my home.

I swerve through the streets, trying to get to my apartment building. We’re so close, I can almost taste the freedom. But every once in a while, I glance at Cora to make sure she’s still here with me because it all feels like a fever dream. She’s crying and shaking, traumatized by what happened, and I’m sorry that I don’t know what I could possibly do to fix this.