Page 68 of Make Me Hunt
“Yay!” he shouts, already stuffing the Pop-Tart in his mouth. I know it’s basically the worst thing to feed a kid. But that’s all I have right now, and he’s starving. I don’t want to leave him alone in the car to go get him something, and I can’t walk into a store and risk showing my face around him. He’ll be all over the news in a couple of days.
Besides, I’m sure the cops will give him something to eat before they track down his parents. I wish I could drop him right at their doorstep, but there’s no reply from 404 yet, so I don’t know who they are.
“Okay, then we have a deal, but you have to pinky promise me something first,” I stretch my hand back, and he hooks his pinkie without hesitation. “You can’t tell the people in there about me. Not yet. Not until it’s been night and morning again.”
“I promise. I’ll just tell them I forgot,” he says, and he sounds clever enough to pull it off for a while. I’m sure they’ll get the truth out of him by tomorrow, but I think they will be more interested in what he has to say about Cynthia and her boyfriend than about me.
First, they’ll want to find out from him a way to track them down.Ifthey even find Cynthia in time. I promised I’d let her live... then. Didn’t promise her she wouldn’t rot in prison or starve to death.
I park the car, a few streets away, picking a spot with no cameras. Then put the cap back on and take the boy right in front of the police station, after making sure the coast is clear.
He does exactly what I told him—counts to ten, then goes inside, while I watch from a distance to make sure someone sees him.
It takes more than a couple of minutes before a few officer’s step outside, scanning the area.
If it took them that long to clock a kid walking in there alone, then the idiots won't find shit.
I disappear as soon as they start snooping around and go straight to Cynthia’s place. I use her keys to let myself in. I took her bag just in case I needed anything, and I have a feeling it’ll come in handy.
I find the coat she mentioned hanging next to the door. She was right. The note’s in here.
Motel Avenue, Room 207. October 31st. 12:00 p.m.
Place your weapon, ID and belongings into the box.
Destroy this after reading.
Well, lucky for me. Cynthia is a moron, and she didn’t destroy the note.
But what fucking box are they talking about?
She must’ve had phone instructions, because I searched the place and there’s nothing here that could give me a clue to the rules of the game. Sure, I know bits and pieces from Elias, and I know this is a survival thing, but I would’ve liked more details.
There’s only one place I haven’t searched—the couch. I try to lift it, and damn, this thing is heavy, but I manage to get it up eventually.
I find a black rectangular wooden box with a handle, the size of a large violin.
I inspect it and find Ares’s mark. The same one I bear on my skin.
I swallow the knot piling up in my throat. I can’t let myself go there. Can’t let whatever madness I feel for him stop me. I just take the box and leave for my apartment. It’s been a hard day, and I’m facing an even worse night.
I fight to get even a few hours of sleep, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t close my eyes for more than a minute.
It’s almost 3 a.m. when I check my phone for anything from 404. He hasn’t replied. But there’s a text from Ares.
Ares: Why did you leave?
His guards must’ve informed him I left.
Me: I’m home. Didn’t feel comfortable there without you.
I reply, hoping I’m convincing enough to get him off my back.
Ares: You disobeyed me.
Me: I wasn’t aware that was an order… ??
Him:It was a request.
