Page 120 of Hunt Me

Glancing down at my little rabbit, I see his eyes are closed, his breathing even, and his hands are loose in my shirt as his fingers toy with the hem. I think there must be a weight lifting off him now that we know both men are caught, and one is dead, and the other is about to be.

It’s over, and he can be free.

And now I can watch him bloom.

30

ARCHIE

“Is it bad?”My voice is rough from tensing my throat so much on the drive home. I didn’t go directly to the shed. Instead, I hovered over my dad as he dressed both Denver’s and Nico’s wounds.

Now that the adrenaline has worn off, they’re both exhausted and half-conscious.

“I don’t think he has a concussion,” my dad says after easing Denver down onto the couch cushions. “But he should probably avoid any head injuries for the next little while.”

I want to laugh. I want to cry. I want to flip him off for being so fucking insensitive, but I don’t. Denver’s eyes are closed, and I don’t think he feels like paying attention to what we’re saying.

I glance over at Nico, who’s icing his mouth. ‘Okay?’

He nods just once, but I don’t know if I believe him. He hasn’t been through this kind of hell since the night I found him, though at least this time, he isn’t riding the fresh trauma of his family trying to beat and pray the gay away.

“Where are Percy and Milo?”

My dad eyes me, then says, “The shed.”

Byron won’t be alive for long, I know this. Whether I take care of him or someone else does, he won’t stay breathing. And I doubt anyone will miss him.

I went over the file that Thorne had given me. It didn’t have a lot of information apart from the details of the case. But I know people like Byron. Loners. No family. Obsessions they don’t know how to handle and a taste for blood from people who do not deserve to be cut.

Walking up to where Denver is gently snoring, I lift him into my arms. He makes a curious noise, but I quiet him with a kiss to the side of his forehead as I make my way toward the stairs.

I think he realizes where I’m taking him because halfway down, he relaxes against me, and his breathing evens out. When we get into the room, I stare at the coffin, but even I know that right now, it’s not the right place for him.

I set him in the bed, tucking the covers tightly around him, and he curls onto his side before reaching a hand toward me. It’s far too easy to fall to my knees and press his knuckles to my lips.

‘Tired,’ he signs with his free hand.

When I see one eye peering up at me, I tap my fingers to my temple. ‘I know. Sleep.’

He nods, and I hold him until he’s out again. When I let go, his hand flops to the mattress, and I take the stairs two at a time, turning left to exit the side door of the house instead of heading back for Nico.

I need time with my best friend to ensure he’ll be able to recover from all of this, and I want details about what happened without making Denver relive them right away.

But I have business to attend to first.

The walk to the shed feels like a hundred miles. I pass by my little garden and the stone steps that lead to the door. Just beyond, I can hear a wheezing sound, and I know I’m just in time.

The door opens with a loud creak, and the figure tied to the chair winces at the sudden light. It doesn’t last long. Percy’s standing in front of Byron with a small box cutter, blood on his hands, his face expressionless.

He’s made for this. More than I am. More than Milo is. He’s our father’s son to the core. He looks at me and gives a single nod before stepping into the shadows.

‘Did you tell him about his lover?’ I ask in sign.

Percy shakes his head.

‘Will you finish this when I go?’

His brows fly up. ‘You don’t want to?’