Page 25

His father did what needed to be done before things went too far, ensuring he got the help he needed.

Only a handful of us knew about any of that.

Everyone else saw Ryder Voss as the golden boy of Hemlock Heights, now Crowsfell’s star quarterback.

He was known to be this gorgeous, charming heartthrob who didn’t hesitate to help someone out.

I saw him as all of those things too.

I was so damn proud of how far he’d come, but I also knew better than to tempt fate.

If I texted him that some psycho had launched a dead crow through my bathroom window, tied up in ribbon and tagged with taunts?

He’d lose it. He’d drive straight here, drag me to his house a few blocks over, and lock me away in his room before tracking down whoever was responsible.

I could already hear the argument playing out if I got too resistant.

He would probably tell my parents if all else failed, and then I would be dealing with a nuclear blow-out.

As if conjured by the mere thought, my phone buzzed with a message from Dad.

Heard the Hunt is getting ready to kick off.

Any word on who got Marked?

I laughed dryly, shaking my head. Of course, he wanted the masala chai gossip so he could share it with his golf buddies. He was worse than I and the girls.

Not yet. I’ll try and find out for you.

That wasn’t entirely a lie. I would be trying to find out who else was in the same situation we were in.

Since he reached out first, I was going to count this as my nightly check-in.

I tossed the phone onto Roxxi’s bed and reached for the pile of clothes I’d brought with me.

My favorite sleep shorts, Ryder’s hoodie, and knee-high socks that looked like tiny sheep.

It wasn’t armor, but it would do. I grabbed Roxxi’s brush from her beauty stand, working it through my damp hair.

The reflection in the mirror was flat-out exhausted, but she wasn’t out for the count quite yet.

I wondered if any of the guys had been Marked.

Or Ashton.

The group chat was quiet, but it wasn’t unusual for them to simply be caught up in their own stuff.

They did have lives too, like I’d tried and failed to remind Ryder.

I decided not to stress too much. I knew that whenever it became common knowledge me and the girls were locked into The Hunt, we’d never know peace and quiet until after it was done.

My phone went off with a new text alert just as I finished brushing my hair.

I turned and picked up my phone, seeing Ashton had finally replied.

Ash

I’m so damn sorry, angel. My dad needed my help after class. Cell died on the way back. You know I’m an idiot and have no car charger.

Okay, not entirely suspicious.

The charger part was true. He couldn’t leave a charging cable in his car to save his life.

His dad lived closer to my family’s side of town, but further inland, which would still be a decent drive.

That explained why he couldn’t respond if his phone lost power.

Now, where the heck did this angel endearment come from?

Angel?

As I waited for a response, I mentally replayed the timeline of the latter half of my day, starting with my last class, then meeting up with Layla, and then the drive to the store and back with Ryder.

It was nearly 9 PM now, and the sky outside was pitch black.

Then I thought about it again. Why would his dad call him to help with something when he was well aware of how far a drive it was from their home to Crowsfell?

I wasn’t the brightest girl on the block, but I wasn’t entirely dumb either.

Something wasn’t adding up.

Lucky for him, I had bigger things to worry about.

I returned to my bedroom to help clean it up, but the mess had already been dealt with.

The glass was gone, the ominous crow removed, and someone had taped a black trash bag over the busted window.

Leave it to the girls to tidy up like a crime scene crew on autopilot.

It wasn't hard to imagine Roxxi going into full drill sergeant mode to make it happen.

I turned around and headed downstairs. Cloe glanced over her shoulder when she heard me coming. “The bird is double bagged and outside the patio door. I’ll toss it in the trash bin in the morning.”

“I still think we should bury it,” Layla murmured.

“You are more than welcome to take it with you and do that,” Roxxi replied sweetly.

“Thanks for cleaning up,” I cut in brightly, hoping to avoid another potential argument.

We needed a distraction, something else to focus on, and the smell of Arianna’s cooking was already making my mouth water.

Being scared out of my mind and saddled with a stalker wasn’t enough to curb my appetite.

“Smells delicious,” I complimented, moving to join them.

“So do you,” Roxxi teased as she plated another dish with garlic bread. “The post-traumatic shower glow suits you.”

I laughed lightly. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

Cloe turned and passed me a fresh glass of iced tea. “You’re okay, though?”

I nodded, accepting the drink and taking a slow sip. “As okay as I can be, considering.”

“That was seriously messed up. What if it had hit you?” Layla asked, sitting down a pile of napkins on the table.

Cloe cringed. “I don’t even want to think about that. It’s bad enough that someone did this in the first place. When we know who it was, I got something for their sadistic ass.”

“Period,” Roxxi gestured.

I began gathering silverware for each of us. “Has anyone posted about being Marked yet?”

Cloe skirted around me. “Some have, and all I’m going to say is, these Huntsmen got creative with it.”

Roxxi nudged her with her hip as they passed each other. “Well, don’t hold out. Tell her so she can feel better about her situation.”

“Yeah, Cici. Let me revel in the despair of strangers,” I joked.

She picked up her phone off the counter and tilted it toward us after unlocking it. “Aaron Winchester, he’s a point guard on the basketball team, found a noose made out of barbed wire hanging in his dorm closet. His Marked note was stitched into the lining of his jersey.”

Ari stirred the pasta once more before turning the burner to warm.

“From what I’ve gathered so far, there’ll be another couple of Hunt announcements and a few more pieces coming together.

Then it kicks off full swing next week. No official start date has been announced yet.

Only that initial statement has gone up.

A text from the school should be coming next. ”

“Is there any way to know who our Huntsmen are?” Roxxi asked.

Ari winced apologetically. “Uh—no. Not until it’s over or you let them close enough to unmask, but then you risk the chance of losing.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “Last year, it could literally be anyone. The guy next to you in class, someone in your dorm building, or a random student who had never interacted with their Marked before the Hunt.”

“Talk about keeping enemies close,” Roxxi mused.

Layla frowned. “This is like Senior Assassin all over again.”

“Yeah, if you swap water guns for psychological warfare.” I laughed.

We carried everything else to the dining nook and settled around our table to eat.

Ari took a bite of pasta and then tapped away on her cell a few times. “Like I suspected, they’ve added onto the official site about a rule change being announced, but it isn’t up yet.”

I sighed, taking another bite of my food, covering my mouth before speaking. “I don’t think I want to know. This is really good by the way, Ari.”

She beamed. “Thank you.”

Layla set down her fork, fidgeting with her napkin. “How exactly is The Hunt won? What’s the benefit of holding out instead of withdrawing?”

Cloe pushed her plate aside and wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“From what I’ve read so far, Huntsmen have to actively pursue their assigned target for a minimum number of set hours.

I haven’t seen how many yet. Not consecutive.

It has to be documented in some way. Then, once they have the green light from the faculty overseeing this whole ordeal, they have to ‘capture’ their target in front of at least one non-Marked student witness. ”

“We really should have paid more attention to this last year. What does capturing entail?” Roxxi asked.

Arianna answered this time. “It varies, but it has to last at least four minutes.”

“That’s not so bad. Four minutes isn’t a long time,” Layla pointed out.

“Yeah, no. We don’t know where or when this would happen, and I’m not keen on someone who will have gone out of their way to scare the shit out of me and make my life hell day after day, holding me captive for any amount of time. I’m sure it would feel like a damn eternity by that point.”

She went quiet for a moment, her appetite clearly gone. “Well, if we’re Marked, there’s nothing we can do about these people in masks. The car thing can’t be okay, though. The Hunt has rules, so there’s no actual harm.”

“Besides mental trauma,” Roxxi confirmed, her eyes trained on her own phone. “But hey, according to this, there’s a way to win for us too. If you last the whole duration without being caught—no capture, no submission—you win instead. Your name gets engraved on a plaque in the theater auditorium.”

“Does it say what happens if we don’t win?”

Roxxi’s brows rose. “Besides the obvious? You’re listed on your Huntsman’s scorecard like a war trophy.”

I tried to think positive thoughts, finding that harder and harder to do as I scrolled through the archived Hunt threads on my phone. “Maybe we should find a bunker and ride this out in there.”

“Good luck with that,” Cloe laughed. “Did you see the post from last year where they flushed a girl out of her cellar with a smoke bomb?”

“Nope, somehow missed that one.”