Page 3 of Boys Who Hunt

She slowly parts her lips as tears roll down her cheeks. He inserts the knife, lays it on her tongue …

And then the grin on his face reappears as a fucked-up laugh follows.

He retracts the knife and releases her throat by shoving her away, causing confusion all around.

“Get out. You’re not worth my time.”

After a quick knife flip, he tucks it back into his pocket as the girl crawls away.

“Fuck you,” she mutters as she scrambles to her feet. “Asshole.”

“She doesn’t seem to like you anymore,” Max says, ogling her as she scurries off. Then he chucks one of the chocolates into his mouth.

Silas snarls, “Good.”

I grip her wrist as she passes me. “Are you okay?”

She wipes the tear stains off her face and jerks her arm free. “I don’t need your pity. Thanks.”

She bolts off to the exit, and I understand why. Not only did she get humiliated in front of an entire crowd but he also scared the living shit out of her.

For a second there, I almost believed he was going to cut her, just like everyone here. He had us on the edge of our seats, wondering how far he would go and whether he’d finally veer off the dangerous tightrope he’d been walking all along. Always looking for the next hit to keep him smiling while surrounded by all that money can buy. But all the riches in the world couldn’t fill the void these boys have in their hearts.

“Music, hello?” Heath growls, and within seconds, the music booms through the room again, drowning out the silence.

I take a last swig of my drink before I waltz out of the dance room.

I’ve made my decision.

Fuck these boys. They deserve everything coming for them.

I head into the bathroom and lock myself inside before I take off my bag and pull out a hoodie and black surgical mask, covering everything until only my eyes are visible. I open the door and look around again to make sure no one watches me as I head upthe stairs. The people attending the party are too busy dancing and chatting to notice me going into the hallway upstairs.

I rummage every room until I find one that’s unlocked and not occupied by people having sex, and I head inside. Books line the walls of this room, and the bed in the back seems unkempt. The scent of burnt incense meets my nostrils as I head toward the closet and open every drawer, searching through the clothes. Boxers, black pants, black shirts with skulls and spiders on them, studded belts and necklaces. This must be Heath’s room.

I get to the next closet and throw everything out until I find a very expensive-looking box from Cartier. “Well, hello there,” I murmur, tucking it into my bag.

I check the rest of the closet, but there’s not much else, and I’m definitely not getting the shoes, no matter how expensive they might be.

I open up some more drawers for some leftover dollar bills as well as an actual new, unused phone. Who keeps a phone carelessly in a box like it’s a fidget and not a whole goddamn phone that probably cost a thousand bucks?

I doubt he even bought this himself.

Men are rich … but boys? Boys don’t deserve the wealth they’ve been handed on a silver platter by their loaded parents. They don’t even pay for their admission to this university. Silas’s mom and dad own the RIVERA clubs across the globe, and his dad is the dean at this college. The parents of these boys bought their spots long ago, while the rest of us have to work our entire lives to earn a scholarship to such a prestigious university.

I stuff the phone box into my pocket before I head to the room right next door.

A ton of skulls are all over the place like someone started a collection, and I don’t know whether they’re real, but I don’t have enough time to care either.

I grab the wallet on the desk, fish out all the credit cards and bills until it’s empty, then snag some rings from the top drawer. Then I filter through his closets, opening up a box in the back that makes my eyes almost bulge out of my head.

“Money shot,” I murmur. There are stacks and stacks of dollar bills, hundreds of them, maybe thousands.

And now they’re all mine.

I take the whole box out and empty it into my bag, which is starting to feel heavy. Then I look around the room and underneath the bed, where I find a particularly strange little box. The lid is closed, but it’s easy to break into as it looks like one of those boxes kids use to hide stuff in. I crack it open with one of my smaller keys, hoping to find some interesting loot.

Instead, there’s a shiny, plastic red flower inside.