Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69098 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“We won’t find her sitting around with our thumbs up our asses,” I grunt, shooting Logan a warning glare. “We need to gather some capable hands and then divide our groups up to cover more ground.”
Logan hesitates, as if my assuming command grates on him, but he manages to swallow down his ire, giving me a quick nod.
It’s dark by the time we have a group of twelve organized and ready to go on our hunt. Logan makes sure Ronan is in his group along with his brother Jace. I’m not happy, but I know he can handle himself. I grab Raegan and another man—Michael and Owen’s cousin, I learn—named Tom. The other two groups are led by CJ and another one of their cousins and Tom’s brother, Seth. Raegan is the only female—another reason why it’s best she’s in my group.
Once we’re all armed and dressed for hunting, another quick ten minutes later, we all set out in different directions. Seth’s group goes down the side of the cliff on the stairs to scout out the area along the river, CJ’s group goes down the road that leads toward town, my group heads west into an area where we hunt a lot, and Logan’s group starts off toward the creek and where we first met up with them.
Normally, Raegan would be running her mouth right about now, still chastising me about earlier, but she’s in huntress mode. Her knife—my knife—is in her hand and at the ready. Each step she makes is damn near silent and a stark comparison to the way Tom bulldozes his way through the forest, shining his flashlight all over the place with no rhyme or reason.
I want to tell this dude to quit fucking stomping, but I manage to hold myself back. Tom may seem like a doofus, but he’s hulking at nearly six and a half feet tall, reminding me very much of Uncle Atticus in size. Dad taught us from an early age not to go provoking creatures that are bigger than us. Tom, though a little pudgy in the midsection, could probably lob my head off with one swing.
My mind is still scattered, thinking about Logan and Ronan and now Tom the giant, when Rae sucks in a sharp breath. It takes only seconds to discover what has her alarmed.
A sock.
Slowly, with my heart beginning to hammer in my chest, I crouch to pick it up, inspecting it closer with my flashlight. A single drop of blood stains the dingy cotton bright crimson. It’s dry, which can’t be good.
“Kristen’s?” Rae asks, picking it up to inspect it better.
It’s just a sock and could essentially be anyone’s, but not just anyone is missing. Kristen is missing and we’ve just found our first clue.
“I think we’re headed in the right direction,” Tom rumbles, worry tinging his tone.
“Stay aware and keep your weapons ready,” I remind them both. “If something attacked her, like a mountain lion or something, it’s possible it could have dragged her out here. And if we’re encroaching on its meal, the cat won’t be happy. Shoot first, ask questions later.”
Dad would be proud of that last sentiment that has Tom studying me with narrowed eyes.
Ignoring him, I take the lead once more, taking care not to make too much sound. Thankfully, Tom seems to have gotten the hint and isn’t smashing his massive boots through anything and everything. Raegan prowls much like a cat herself, making my heart squeeze with momentary pride. As much as I don’t want her traipsing out headfirst into danger, I know she of all people can handle herself.
We spend another twenty minutes in silence, the three of us wary and watchful. It’s not until Rae sucks in a sharp breath do my eyes also latch onto what she sees.
Blue jeans.
Or, rather, blood-soaked blue jeans sliced cleanly up each pant leg and discarded like trash. My stomach clenches like a fist and bile burns in the back of my throat. No forest animal that I know of can cut neatly through fabric.
Whoever did this is human.
Tom curses under his breath and then stomps past us to inspect the clothing. I’m still wondering who the fuck could do this when Rae cries out and then takes off in a full sprint ahead. It takes a second for my mind to catch up before I’m tearing off after her bouncing flashlight. If the monster who did this is still out here, then she’s in danger. We’re all in danger.
I’ve nearly caught up to Rae, weaving around thick tree trunks and hopping over thick underbrush when I see her. Not Rae. Kristen.
Bloody. Half-naked. Unmoving.
Is she dead?
Her legs are crudely spread apart, her pussy on full display, with her underwear still hanging on to one of her legs just past her knee. It’s nothing like the dirty magazines Wild smuggles to us. There’s nothing sexy about seeing a real pussy for the first time.