Page 242 of Boys Who Hunt

“Shit, Ivy must’ve taken it,” Silas responds.

“There!” Max points at one of the expensive cars in the garage next to the mansion. “We can take that one.”

“Fine. He stole our girl, so we’ll steal his car,” Silas says, hobbling over to the garage.

Stefano’s personal driver lies on the asphalt, dead as can be, and Silas fishes the key from his pocket. “I’ll take that.”

Skid marks are all over the grass leading to the garage. Someone hastily drove a car away from here.

“Shit, Stefano must’ve taken the other car that was here,” I say as I set Max down in the back seat. “We gotta hurry.”

“I’m coming!” Silas snaps, jumping into the passenger’s seat while I get behind the wheel and put it in reverse.

“Let’s go get our girls.”

Ivy

Sweat dropsroll down my back as I keep Cora and Bagel close to me, praying he won’t find us. The door slams shut, and I know it’s too late.

He’s here.

I grab Cora’s face and make her look at me so she understands what I say. “Stay.”

She nods, and I swiftly exit the closet so I can grab a knife from the kitchen before he finds us. It won’t do much against a gun, but I’m not gonna sit around in there and wait until he finds us and drags us all the way back to that hellhole.

Fuck no.

I won’t go down without a fight.

If he wants to take her, he’ll have to go through me.

I take the biggest knife I can find and hold it out in front of me as I step out into the living room. He’s got Mrs. Schwartz in a chokehold, and the frying pan she was using to cook her bacon in drops to the floor.

I clear my throat and try to form the words as best I can despite not knowing how they sound. “Let. Her. Go.”

A wicked smile forms on his face, and he shoves her toward the couch, where she hits her head on the table. She’s passed out and bleeding from the head.

Fuck.

Sweat drops roll down my back as he steps closer and closer, taunting me, trying to get me to flee. But I am done running from this monster.

Clutching the knife tightly, I jump at him, cutting into him with everything I have. I manage to hit him in the arms before he grabs my wrist and locks it behind my back, knocking it out of my hand. I fight against his grip and kick him in the balls, and he briefly buckles, allowing me to break free.

I ram my knee into his face, and he stumbles backward, bleeding from the nose.

“That’s it.”

I can read the words from his lips, and they strike fear into my heart.

I punch him in the gut, but he swiftly pulls back, grabs my hand, and twists it around until I’m squealing in pain. His other hand wraps around my neck, twisting tighter and tighter until it becomes impossible to breathe. I claw at his fingers, to no avail.

No. Please. I don’t want to die.

But it doesn’t matter what I try to say.

My throat has already clamped shut, and my voice stopped working the second he got his hands on me. Slowly, I can feel myself slipping away.

Something thuds beneath me, and when I blink, two tiny hands are smashing against Stefano’s knees, and it’s enough to bring tears to my eyes.