Page 121 of Hunt Me

There’s enough blood on my hands, and while I don’t think Denver will hate me if I end this man here, I also don’t ever want him to be afraid of me. Once the danger is truly gone, I don’t want him to have any room to doubt that he will be safe with me.

That I will never, ever turn on him.

Percy must read something on my face because he nods and turns away as I walk up to the man who spent far too much time tormenting my beloved.

I look at his battered face, at the gash on his forehead from where Denver nearly took him out for good, and I can’t help but smile. He sucks in a wet breath as I slide my fingers into his hair and pull.

“Lewis is dead.”

He makes a soft noise.

“I would say it was revenge for what you’ve done to Denver, but we both know you didn’t love Lewis.”

His lips work, but they’re too swollen to make words I can understand. Not that I care. He doesn’t deserve to be understood in his last breaths.

“You would have killed Denver, wouldn’t you? In the end?”

His one functional eye looks up and meets mine. I see the truth there. He would have. It wasn’t love—it wasn’t obsession. It was a raging lust fueled by god only knows what.

He would have made Denver hurt in the end. He would have reveled in his pain.

I won’t give him any more satisfaction.

“It’s going to hurt,” I tell him as I let him go. “While he finishes you, it’s going to hurt.”

I nod to Percy, then swipe my hands on my jeans and head out the door, letting it slam loudly behind me as I cross the lawn and head back into the house.

I need a moment to catch my breath. This life is all I’ve ever known, but it’s always been hard. I am more my mother’s son than my father’s. I was good at doing what I was told, and learning routine, and separating myself from the moral concepts of right and wrong when I needed to.

But the weight on me was heavy, and the fact that we’re being set free means something.

Heading back into the living room, Nico’s on the couch, stretched out with his feet up on the arm, the ice pack lying beside him on the cushion. He looks bad, but not as bad as he could be.

“Is he dead?”

I shake my head as I walk over and sit on the coffee table. I offer him a hand, and he takes it, his soft thumb running over my rougher knuckles. “Percy has him.”

Nico chokes out a laugh. “So he will be.”

“Mm.”

Nico’s quiet for a long while, playing with my fingers with just enough pressure that the touch doesn’t hurt, and then he turns his head again to look at me. “You want to know what happened?”

“If you want to tell me. I can wait.”

He shrugs. “He wasn’t after me, obviously. I was just in the way. A witness, I guess.” Nico drops my hand and begins to knead his fingers on the cushion beneath him like a cat. “He knocked Denver out—got him on the back of the head. I tried to fight him, but…” He stops, then swears under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Archie.” His voice cracks. “I fucking froze. I fucked up. I should have?—”

“No.”

His jaw snaps shut.

I drop to my knees and grab his chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. It’s hard, but I don’t care. He needs this. “No,” I say again. “You didn’t fuck up.”

Nico licks his lips, his eyes a little wet. “After all this time, I should stop fucking freezing. I know how to defend myself.”

“You did nothing wrong.”

“I had to be rescued again,” he spits. “I could have saved him, and instead, I fucking crumpled, and Denver had to save me.”