Page 14 of Tracking Snow

"Seriously, what’s your deal?" I press.

"I thought you could figure that from all that stalking you were doing tonight."

I bluster, no audible words forming.

What the hell? I’d been silent as a black cat in slippers on an ice luge. How did he⁠—

"Are you two going to flirt all night?" Dirt-Face mutters from below me.

Whoops. I’d almost forgotten he was there. I turn my attention back to him.

"Listen up, asshole, just because I’m not going to gut you tonight doesn’t mean I won’t do it next time. Three strikes and you’re out, capiche? If I see you out lurking at night again, being a purist dickwad, if I hear anything has happened to that kid or his family, if he so much as gets a bruise by accident, I will hunt you down and cut you up until that dumbass white jacket is soaked red and you can’t bother anyone anymore. Got it?"

It took everything to resist glancing up at Hoodie. The threatening speech could have been right out of some dark action movie.

I nailed that.

The corners of Dirt-Face's eyes tense as he nods.

"Say ‘I understand," I order in a singsong voice.

When he doesn’t answer right away, I push the dagger into him more firmly.

"I understand," he squawks in panic.

I rise back to my feet, giving him space to stand. Red flushes underneath all his dirty-looking scruff as he avoids eye contact.

"Hold up," I say, before he can slink off like the rat he is. I hold out a hand, opening and closing it in a gimme motion. "The jacket."

He sheds it and scurries off, cursing under his breath.

I walk over and pick it up, pinching it between my fingers, reluctant to touch it. "Ew, ew, ew, ew," I chant until I drop it in a nearby dumpster.

"You should have killed him," Hoodie says again. "He’s going to come after you."

"Pfft, I think I’ve proven I can handle myself...what is your name again?"

A tiny, sly smile ticks up on one side. "I didn’t drop our—my name." The slip-up he made instantly wipes away his smirk.

"Our name, okay. What’s our name then?" I say cautiously, not wanting to spook him or...them. Something is definitely up with this guy.

His tongue sweeps over his front teeth in consideration as he eyes me thoughtfully.

It takes so long for him to answer, I practically vibrate with energy that demands I explode into a litany of more questions.

No. Be cool. Be calm. Don’t act desperate. Let him answer you in his own time.

His expression shifts as if he’s come to some decision. "We are known as The Seven," he finally says with a sardonic bow.

"So, am I right in thinking you aren’t the same guy I met yesterday?" Again, play it cool, Snow. This is the most interesting hot dude you’ve ever met, don’t blow it.

I casually swipe my hands on my pants, trying to hide the fact they’ve turned slick. No guy has ever made me break a sweat. Ever.

Those purple eyes track the movement as if he knows exactly why I did it.

"That was One. I would be Two. Pleasure to meet you in the flesh, Snow." He practically purrs my name in a sardonic taunt. Like my name is lame, and he’s too cool for anything, especially me.

I strangle down the urge to fist pump because I asked the right questions and guessed correctly.