Page 50 of Hunted Mate
“She was no trouble at all. Very polite. Very hungry.”
Callie
Horns blare as I send the fastest car in the world down the highway. It’s a pretty standard sedan, but stolen cars go much faster than ones you own. That’s a scientific fact. The speed is soothing, in a strange way. The near misses with other vehicles feel like a balm to my soul.
Brraappprrrprraarrpp!
A truck is angry at me, but it can’t do anything, because it’s a truck.
I’ve spent my whole life trying to be a good person, as if enough goodness would somehow erase the badness. It doesn’t really make sense, but that’s how it’s worked. And then they gave me whatever they gave me and I don’t feel guilty anymore. I feel animal. I feel instinctual.
I haven’t hurt anyone who didn’t deserve to be hurt. I didn’t hurt anyone who didn’t hurt me first. But the people who did? I hurt them bad. Really fucking badly.
There’s something different inside me now. Something strong and wild, something that makes other people seem a little less like people and a little more like meat. But even meat deserves to be treated nicely most of the time, right?
I keep moving, ditching one car, and taking another. People’s keys are just in their pockets most of the time, and my fingers are light. I would never have dared do this in the past. I would have been horrified by what people would think. But I don’t care anymore.
I’m also very, very rich.
Like, insanely rich.
I’m rich in a way that most people will never be rich, and now I’m also feral in some way I never was before.
Mark. Molly. They’re still in my New York place. I know that because they answer the phone.
“Hey. So. Got kidnapped and experimented on. Don’t get caught. Don’t get kidnapped. Don’t get…”
Ding dong.
I hear the doorbell ring.
“What’s that?”
“Pizza.”
“Pizza could be a trap.”
Molly pauses for a second. “It’s not a trap. It’s double pepperoni.”
“Okay. Good. But be careful, okay?”
“We’re being careful,” she says. “We don’t want to end up eaten. Like pizza.”
Molly and Mark are having the best time making themselves at home in my palatial mansion. I’m happy for them. I’m also worried for them.
“I’m on the run,” I say. “So if anyone comes looking for me, I’m not there. I’m also not here. You don’t know where I am. Also, don’t answer the door or talk to anyone, okay?”
“Okay,” she says. It’s now pretty obvious she’s eating her pizza, unconcerned.
“I know it feels like being in a fancy house means you’re safe, but it really doesn’t.”
“Yeah,” she says. “So what happened, you got like, kidnapped or whatever?”
“Yeah. I got taken to a laboratory by the wolves. They’re really into capture play.”
“Yeah,” she says, unbothered. “Okay, so we won’t do that.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Try not to. Also, I need you to get my card couriered to me. I’m going to give you an address.”
