Page 19 of Hunting Ground

Ansel looks up at me, brows raised like he’s offended. “If he’s your favorite brunet, then what am I?” he complains.

“Oh, that’s easy.” My smile is soft and beatific as I look down at him. “You’re my favorite mouthy brunet.”

Ansel’s indignant squawk has me canceling, and against my side, Even Ronan chuckles, though I’m sure it hurts him to do so.

But I meant it, whether or not they believe me.

One more time, and that’ll be the very last time Charles hurts my guys.

8

The sound that comes out of me is a little less than friendly, and somewhere south of convinced. I stare between the two men I’d grown up with, who I’d formed a mean little gang with in our group home and defended with everything I had.

Then I look at the stranger, watching the play of lights from the Diamondback sing into his red-brown hair, and he studies me from dark eyes the same way I study him. “Who the hell are you?” I ask sharply, not meaning to, but certainly not taking it back once it’s out.

“Adrien,” he introduces, and glances towards Ansel with something like guilty mischief and amusement on his face. “I was looking for you off of an old, old picture. God forbid you just tell me your name when I asked.” With that, he rolls his eyes at me, like I’m the problem here.

My mouth twitches in disbelief and I continue to stare at him, incredulous and definitely offended. “You threatened me. With a knife.”

“You had a crowbar,” he retorts. “I was reacting, not threatening.”

“You chased me!”

“You ran.” he rolls his eyes like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Didn’t know you were such a princess. The way they talk about you, you’re ten feet tall and you eat bullies for breakfast. How was I supposed to know The Sable Carver would run from me just because I have a little kitchen knife.”

I can’t even look away. The absolute audacity in his voice has the fear draining out of me to be replaced with indignation and irritation. “Let go of me,” I say flatly when Ronan carefully rests a hand on my shoulder.

“Why?” my more mild-mannered friend asks carefully.

“Because I’m gonna go over there and kill your new boyfriend.” Without hesitating, I lift the crowbar and stalk forward, only for Ronan to hook an arm around my shoulders and pull me back against him.

Adrien cackles, just as Ansel drops his hood and runs a hand through his mousy brown hair. “Can you stop tormenting her?” he asks the new guy, turning to glower at him. But I quickly see that Adrien isn’t afraid of him. Of either of them, if I had to guess. And whatever kind of respect they have for each other isn’t shared by this stranger.

They can’t have known him that long, I wager. Not when he looks at Ansel like he’s trying to find ways to push his buttons and get under his skin. What’s worse, is I can see that Ansel doesn’t even notice.

Or care, I suppose. He’ll put up with a lot. And when I see him tilt his head towards Adrien with that sharp little glimmer in his gaze, I realize it’s just that he isn’t worried about what Adrien could or would do in retaliation. Not that he’s afraid of him.

It’s then that it hits me just how much they’ve changed. In the last nine years, I’ve only seen pictures of them. And even that had dwindled once we’d had our last argument about what I’m doing with my life. My heart twists in my chest and I turn to face Ronan, giving him my full attention while the music and lights fall away.

Have I changed too? I wonder as I reach up to run my fingers over a scar on his cheekbone that wasn’t there before. Do they look at me and still see the same Sable, the one they grew up with?

Or do they see the night manager of the Rest Easy Inn, the one who’d chosen to stay in this nowhere town instead of finding something more with them?

Do they know I regret my choice?

My heart sinks into my chest at the thought and I take a step back from Ronan for my own sense of self preservation, not because he’s done anything. I want so badly to grab him and hug him. To hug both of them and pull them against me until I feel their heart beat line up with mine.

Just like we used to.

But I can’t. Not yet. Not now, when I’m trying to hold myself together from so many different angles. There have to be priorities in play, not just feelings. Priority number one is staying alive.

“So you know what’s going on here?” I ask finally as I realize that shouldn’t be common information. I pull away from Ronan, unable to miss how his face follows my hand for just one small moment before he forces himself to stay still.

God, I missed them.

“How do you know?” I add before any of them can answer. My feet take me over to where Ansel stands, though I ignore Adrien for the moment. I still haven’t decided how I feel about him, and I’d rather just look at Ansel.

Unlike Ronan, he doesn’t have any new scars. Instead, he has dark circles under his eyes that look like they’ve been etched under his skin, and his jaw is sharper than I remember. The roundness to his face is gone. The sweetness is still there, still in his gaze and hidden under the mischief, but some of that vulnerable, child-like chubbiness isn’t there.