Page 41 of Make Me Hunt
I start with the first room on the right since his bedroom is all the way at the end of the hall.
It’s just a storage room. So, I try my luck with the next, which is a guestroom, from what I can see, or at least an unused bedroom.
I close it and move on. The next opens into a small lounge with a view of the garden, but it’s not what I’m after.
Another door opens to another storage space, or maybe it’s a laundry room, I can’t tell. Then another bedroom. And another.
I’m almost out of doors here, but I remember spotting a smaller lobby when we came in.
I head that way, passing the kitchen. The place is beautifully styled, every decoration, every light fits perfectly in place. Either he hired a designer, or he’s got great taste in interior design. Judging by the way he dresses; I’d bet on the second.
I take a look around me to make sure no one’s around, and I spot a door I suspect leads to the basement. I need to get down there eventually to investigate, but first, I have to finish here and make sure I’ve checked every room.
I move to the next door, press the handle, and I get the feeling this might be my jackpot.
For once, I catch a lucky break. It’s his home office. But I wouldn’t exactly call it a lucky break because the first thing I notice as I enter the room is a curved sword on the wall.
I suddenly feel like I’m hyperventilating, my limbs start shaking, pure hate replacing whatever I felt for this man.
I want to do something, to move away, but all I can do is stare at it for long minutes.
Is this the sword that killed Elias?
Did Ares kill Elias himself?
I knew he probably had something to do with it indirectly, but the thought that he killed him himself makes my skin burn. I want to remove it completely from the places he touched me. And that would pretty much mean all of it.
I want to dig my fingernails into his mark and rip it out. Riphimout. And before I know it, I’m clutching the robe tighter, hoping I’ll just disintegrate.
I have to get myself together. I don’t have fucking time to stare at the sword. And as my gaze slips away from the weapon, another detail catches my eye—the walls are covered with photos of buildings where the previous Kharon editions took place, along with plenty of other buildings I don’t even recognize.
I know, because I found the same photos in Elias’s files. And there’s no doubt in my mind now that Ares is directly involved with this.
I start going through Ares’ study, searching his documents for any clue that could give me answers. I search through his drawers, files on acquisitions, files on politicians, and different contracts I have no interest in.
I only stop when I find a file with my name on it.
I open it, terrified of what he might know.
But it’sempty.
Just the info I wanted everyone else to know. My life only traces back to three years ago. Before that, it’s as if I didn’t exist at all. Probably because I didn’t. I was dead. Not that I’m more alive now. Now, I justfeeldead.
The fact that he’s got nothing on me doesn’t ease my concern. He’s probably suspicious of my past and what happened before I became the person he thinks he knows. All the more reason to get as far away from him as I can.
I try to hack into his computer, but I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. It’s password-protected, and I pretty much can’t get past that wall. So, I go back to digging through files and find a bill for a hundred custom cargo pants and a hundred imprinted T-shirts in different sizes and colors. The numbers don’t match what I know, but it’s maybe just extra stock.
I want to snap a picture with my phone, just in case I need the address, but the damn thing dies on me right before I hit the camera button.
I always forget to charge it—not that my mind was on plugging in the phone last night, more like plugging in myself.
I try to remember the address—25 Newmark Road—and the company’s name—Extreme Fashion. Then I start searching again, drawer after drawer, knowing that I’m missing something. Maybe Ares doesn’t keep information about the gameshere, but I know someone who has information about it—404. I just don’t know how to get to him.
So now my focus is to find something on him. I keep searching through the papers, and just as I’m about to give up, I find a copy of a plane ticket dated a week ago, and a photo of 404 at the airport.
Poor bastard never got on that plane. But where did they take him?
Ares has so many warehouses and side operations that 404 could be anywhere in the city.
