Page 33 of Boys Who Hunt

The front door is knocked open, and I jolt up against the wooden slats of the bed.

“Oh, Ivy …”

His voice makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“I’m baa-hack!”

It’s really them.

“Miss me?”

An unsettling laugh makes me shudder underneath the bed.

If I stay here, they’ll definitely find me, but where else am I supposed to go? The doors are locked. The only way out … is running straight into their arms.

“You know you can’t hide from me, right?”

Crack. Crack. Crack.

His footsteps as he heads up the stairs make my heartbeat shoot through the roof.

“Little thief, little thief … let me come in.”

Fuck.

I fish into my pocket and search for the only thing that can help me right now. My little pocket knife that I always carry with me.

“Not by the hair on my chinny, chin, chin.”

That was definitely Heath. His voice is much, much lower than Silas’s … and much more ominous.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Silas laughs. “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house in.”

WHAM!

The door to the bedroom is slammed open, and I hold my breath.

They’re here.

I swiftly cover my body with the blanket I bought underneath the bed.

“I’m impressed at your ability to lie, twig,” Silas says.

“Almost had me fooled too,” Heath adds as they enter.

I can see their black-laced boots as they waltz around the room, searching every nook and cranny. The closet is thrown open, allthe contents that were left spilling out onto the wooden flooring. Objects are smashed against the walls, windows are torn open, and not even the bed is spared.

That’s when I spot him. Bent over. Looking straight at me.

Heath.

Strands of his painted brown hair fall over his face as he gazes around, and I can see it all right through the fabric of the blanket. Our eyes actually connect. But for some reason … he doesn’t see me.

He grunts and stands up again, and the footsteps sound farther and farther away.

Did they leave?