Page 117 of Hunt Me

“Shit.” My finger scrolls a little more, my heart thundering in my chest when I realize what this means. My brothers have one of them in the shed. But only one of them. Which means Byron is still somewhere in town. Of course he’s not a threat to Denver when he’s with my brothers, but the thought still terrifies me that any of them may have dropped their guard.

I let the photograph flutter to the floor as I pull out my phone and jab Denver’s contact, trying to open a FaceTime, but he doesn’t answer.

“Call Percy,” I demand as I pull up Milo’s contact. My dad nods as I smash the phone to the side of my head, pacing as it rings and rings and rings.

And there’s no answer.

Luckily, Percy picks up, and my dad puts it on speaker, holding the phone right next to me.

“Where is Denver?” I snap, and Percy pauses, his breath coming out in a long, slow drag.

“He and Nico went out for the afternoon. Why?—”

“Fuck!” I scream, snatching the phone from my dad’s hands.

“Jesus Christ, relax,” Percy bites out. “We have the fucker in the shed right now. It’s not like he’s going to?—”

“There are two,” I bite out. “It’s not just him.”

There’s a heavy silence, and then Percy whispers, “Oh fuck. Denver and Nico went to a drag brunch, I think. They’re supposed to be back soon though.”

Drag brunch. Okay. Maybe that’s why he’s not answering. If he’s in the middle of the show, he’s probably not looking at his phone, but I don’t feel soothed by that at all.

“I need you and Milo to go down there and collect them,” I say, marching outside. My dad’s on my heels after grabbing most of what we need to track Byron down, and my entire body is shaking when I get behind the wheel.

My dad makes a noise of protest, but I refuse to budge. I need to drive. I need something to focus on so I don’t lose it completely. He passes me the keys, and I put the phone in the holder as I start the engine and prepare to make the four-hour drive back to town in three.

“We’re on our way now,” Percy tells me, breathless. I can hear him starting his truck.

I take a single fortifying breath. “I need you to find him, Perce. Alive. Unharmed. You shouldn’t have let him go.”

“Fuck, I know. I’m sorry.” He’s silent for a beat, and then he says, “He’s going to be okay. He’s brave, Arch. And smart. And he’s with Nico.”

That does nothing to soothe the raging hurricane in my chest, but there’s nothing I can do about it until we get home,so I hang up the call and fix my eyes on the road ahead. If I get there and something’s happened to the two people I love most in the world, I will burn the entire planet down.

I hate that I’m not surprised to find that Denver and Nico are both missing the moment we pass the town limits. Percy and Milo scoured the town but couldn’t find a trace of them apart from an overturned chair and an unlocked door in Denver’s office. They have all of our contacts on it—all the dirty cops on my father’s payroll—and Matias is attempting to track Byron’s phone, but as of right now, we have no new information.

Just two missing people and a murderous rage in my chest.

I curl my fingers into fists and start to bounce on my toes again.

Fuck. Fuck!

“We will find them,” my dad says, his voice assured and stiff. “Milo’s working on Lewis now, and you and I both know he won’t last long under his interrogation.”

I’ve done everything I can to stay out of it so far. Milo does his best work when he’s alone, but my patience is wearing thin. It’s been hours, and Lewis still hasn’t broken, and I think it might be time for me and my knives to give it a shot.

I take a breath, then turn to my father. “I’m going in there.”

“Archie,” he starts, then stops. I think he knows that he’d do the same thing if any one of us were taken, and I know it’s killing him thinking about what Nico might be going through. He’s already been to hell and back. He doesn’t need this. After a long beat, he inclines his head in a single nod, then gestures to the door.

It’s all I need to march outside and make my way to the shed.

The door slams open, and I step inside, the darkness making my eyes ache. But they adjust, and Milo is standing behind a gagged and bleeding man, a sharpened screwdriver flicking back and forth in his hands.

It’s bloody, and I can see why.

“I see you’ve made some progress,” my dad says, and I jolt. I hadn’t realized he’d followed me. My dad walks up and studies the man’s hands and the stumps where his fingers had once been.