Page 39 of Hunting Ground

She glances around the roller rink, her eyes falling on Jeff’s body. She doesn’t look particularly upset by his loss, but instead she seems to calculate the risk, and my offer. “You didn’t give them that option. Why me?”

“Because I’m sexist, I guess,” I sigh. I push the knife more firmly against her neck, being careful not to cut her. “So are you going to tell me?”

“Your friends won’t let me leave. Who are they, anyway?”

“Doesn’t matter, because they will let you leave. So long as you turn over your phone to us and your keys. You can walk wherever it is you need to go. I don’t really trust you not to tell your friends about this. So maybe, before you decide that’s not good enough, consider that I could lock you up in the arcade staff lounge. Or, you know.” I shift my grip on the blade. “Literally kill you.”

That gives her pause. Her mouth opens and closes, and she looks around the room again. “I really would’ve let you live,” Elaine tells me softly, doubt in her eyes.

“I believe you. That’s why you aren’t dead.”

“You’ll really let me leave, even knowing what I did? That I killed someone tonight and I’ve done it before?” I can’t blame her for her suspicion, but my head hurts, my skin is sticky with blood, and I want to leave.

“Decide. Tell me where they are and swear you won’t contact them, or I slit your throat.”

Silence falls between us, broken only by the sound of Lily’s pained gasps that she tries to muffle. At last, Elaine sighs and closes her eyes in resignation, her frown deepening and making her look older, somehow. “Zack–you don’t know him, and he certainly isn’t dead–bought some old fixer upper property. A farm a few miles south.” She rattles off an address, then gives it to me again while Adrien takes note of it on his phone.

“Thank you. Phone?” When she fishes it out of the pocket of her dress with the arm I haven’t pinned, I hand it over to Adrien as well. He stuffs it in his back pocket, watching me carefully as I get to my feet.

“N-no.” Lily stumbles forward, gripping my arm. “No you can’t let her go.” The desperation in her voice makes my heart twist, but when I look at her, I’m not moved to do something different. “She killed Miranda! She was going to kill me, Sable!”

Elaine watches me, her eyes going from Lily’s face to mine almost frantically as she watches for me to change my mind, the suspicion clear on her face. “Go,” I tell her, holding onto Lily’s arm. “Or I’ll give her the knife and she can do it.”

“No!” Lily lunges forward weakly, and I tell myself I’m doing her just as much of a favor as I am Elaine by holding her back. Ronan catches her on her other side, more to help her stay standing than to stop her.

As I watch, the blonde haired woman takes one careful step, then another. She continues to walk hesitantly across the roller rink, barely glancing at her comrades, and spending more of her attention on the other two men with knives in the building.

Finally, when she’s at the door, Elaine hesitates. She reaches into her pocket again and tosses the keys onto the counter, and even from halfway across the room with the disco ball still spinning, I find her gaze.

“Thank you.” The words are whispered hesitantly, almost being pulled from her throat, before Elaine pushes open the door and flees, disappearing when the door closes hard behind her.

The moment she’s gone, Lily crumples in my arms. She turns against my chest, her knees buckling and pulling me to the ground too. “I–I know I should thank you,” she gasps. “And I am thanking you, I swear. But you let her go! Why did you–”

I cut her off by lifting her face gently, my hand under her chin so I can meet her eyes. “Because she’s the lesser evil here, and I wasn’t going to lie. She would’ve let me live if I killed you,” I tell her matter-of-factly. The words make her draw back, but I don’t let her.

Instead, my grin goes sly. “And now, I get to kill the others. Every guy who was here tonight who killed someone? They’ll be dead when I’m done, Lily. I promise. I just need you to go home and not tell anyone about this, okay? Just trust me. Just one more time. And I’ll make sure they can never do this to anyone else ever again.”

15

It takes an exhaustingly long time to calm Lily down enough that she won’t go to the police. As we talk, Ronan patches her up, even offering to stitch up the cuts on her arms that probably need it, though Lily looks at him in horror.

“I’m going to the hospital. I–I won’t tell,” she promises me quietly. “But I want…” she trails off, and I get it. She deserves real medical attention, a good cry, and to call whoever she can to come get her. She deserves that and more. But right now, with the way she casts suspicious looks my way, it doesn’t seem like she’d appreciate an offer of getting her there.

In the end, Adrien does call her an uber, and she finds her phone in the plastic bin of personal belongings.

Lily escapes without a word, planning to meet the uber down the road where the nearest pickup is, and declining Ansel’s offer to go with her.

It’s not until she leaves that Adrien moves, and he comes over to lean in until his mask brushes my face. “I’ll follow her,” he murmurs softly, when she’s out of earshot and can’t see him. “They can take you back to the hotel. I’ll make sure she gets to her car okay.”

Relief floods through me, and I fight the urge not to kiss his stupid mask right there. “Thank you,” I sigh, my shoulders dropping. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“Mmm.” he saunters towards the door, then pauses and glances back towards the three of us remaining. “is this her usual?” he asks airily. “To help people who will never truly thank her for it, and who probably don’t deserve it?” Adrien doesn’t wait for an answer, which is a good thing, since I don’t even know what the hell I’d say.

“I don’t do that,” I murmur finally, once he’s gone. But when I turn to look at Ansel and Ronan, neither of them have an answer for me. “I don’t.” My voice echoes, and I find that there isn’t much certainty in the words when they come from me.

The hotel is certainly nicer than The Rest Easy Inn. Not at The Four Seasons standards, by any means, but still nice enough that the room has the smell of disinfectant, clean sheets, and something to temper the bleach.

I don’t realize how tired I am, and how much I ache, until I see the beds waiting for me, though I hesitate. There are so many things I need to do before I collapse onto one of them, and I’m not even sure that’s the right option.