Page 96 of Boys Who Hunt
“Then I guess we’re both stealing food today.” He snorts and falls down on the couch next to me. “Have you talked to Max lately?”
I take another bite. “Yeah, why?”
“Does he seem … off to you?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. He just doesn’t talk to me anymore the way he used to.”
“Dude, it’s been like what … a week?”
He shoves me with his elbow. “C’mon, I’m serious. Even a week for us is a long time.” He sighs. “He normally tells me everything.”
“Maybe he’s just working through some stuff and needs some time to think,” I reply.
I’m not going to tell Elliot what we’ve been doing with that girl Ivy. He’d probably try to shank me on the spot just for involving his brother. He’s a soft soul, except when it comes to protecting his family.
“He’s fine,” I add. “Don’t worry.”
“Okay. If you say so,” he says.
Suddenly, the front door slams shut, and we both abruptly stop eating as two bloodied legs appear in view. Elliot’s sandwich drops onto his jeans as Silas walks in with his body caked in blood. He just walks past us without even looking and drops a bag on the floor near the stairs.
“Holy shit …” Elliot mutters.
I immediately put down my sushi and walk out to gape at him as he saunters up the stairs.
“What happened to him?” Elliot asks behind me. “Should we even ask?”
“I don’t know. Stay here. I’ll deal with it.”
He raises his hands. “Okay, sounds fine by me.”
Silas is already upstairs, so I follow his red footsteps and find him standing in front of his bed, dripping blood onto the small carpet. His hands are curled into fists, his eyes monstrously cold.
I swallow. “You okay?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Are you hurt?”
He shakes his head, the blood still rolling down the palm of his hands.
“You killed again, didn’t you?” I ask.
His eyes twitch as they connect with mine, a wicked smile appearing on his face. “I couldn’t help myself.”
I sigh out loud. “Go shower. I’ll clean the weapons and tell everyone to leave the premises so we can deal with this.” He begins unbuttoning his shirt, so I turn and leave, but I grab the door on my way out. “Did anyone see you?”
“No. I made sure of it.”
I doubt that, considering how he came in, but whatever. We’ll spin a good story for those who saw him.
“And the body?” I ask.
“Gone. Incinerated.” The smirk on his face widens. “Fucking ashes in the woods,” he replies, letting the shirt fall to the ground.
I shake my head. Even now, he can’t stop himself from killing literally anything and everything that walks. Something must’ve ticked him off, but he’ll never tell me what.