Page 127 of Hunt Me

Turning the corner, I notice that the service entrance door is open, which is odd. It’s usually locked, but it’s also possible that in the chaos of the evening, one of the staff used it and didn’t latch it all the way.

I walk down and stick my head out, immediately hit in the face with wind and rain.

“Ah! Fuck me!”

As I swipe water out of my eyes, I notice something not too far away. A shadow in the shape of a person. My heart leaps into my throat as it moves toward me, and I feel the sudden urge to break into a run.

My entire body tenses, and?—

“Dr. Bel? Are you okay?”

It takes me a second to remember I have a patient and to recognize Salem’s voice. “Yes, sorry! I think the storm might have knocked out the power!” I call back.

I turn my head back toward the alley, but whoever was there isn’t anymore. Or maybe they never were. I’ve been working for fourteen hours, so there’s a good chance I’m hallucinating.

Ihavebeen watching a lot of murder shows lately. I could be reenacting one subconsciously.

Slamming the door, I twist the lock, then use my flashlight to make my way back to the exam room where Otto’s sitting with Cupcake between his legs, Salem holding his hand.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s going on, but go ahead and take Cupcake home and just call me if something comes up.” I reach for one of my cards and the pen that’s always by the computer, scribbling down my cell phone number. “This is my personal number you can text. I also have my email on there if that’s a better way to communicate. Sorry, I don’t have anything in braille.”

‘It’s fine,’ Otto signs. ‘Salem will help me if I need it. Is there anything I need to do for Cupcake tonight?’

I drop to my knees again and check his gums, then the sclera in his eyes, before looking up at them both. “Feel free to give him some pumpkin with his next meal if he’s having an upset stomach, and if you want to call the clinic in the morning, Bridgette can schedule you in for the day after tomorrow so I can check on him.”

I give Cupcake one last scratch before walking Salem and Otto to the front. The lock is turned, so I undo it, then hold the door for them as they start on their way out.

Otto stops and extends one hand toward me while the other touches his chin. ‘Thank you. I was scared.’

‘I know,’ I answer back as his hand follows mine. ‘You did the right thing.’

Otto smiles, then lets me go, and I watch as they make their way to Salem’s truck, which is parked right out front. They getin, and when the headlights blind me, I turn away and head back to the front desk to leave Bridgette a note.

Luckily, we don’t have any animals at the clinic at the moment, so I won’t need to worry about the power, and our one fridge and freezer holding sensitive medications are on a small generator, which will last until morning.

I think all my bases are covered.

With a cleansing breath, I head to my office, guided just by the light from my phone. Though as I move, I can’t help but feel like I’m being watched. It has to be the paranoia from being in the dark.

It’s been a weirdly long day, and this last call was unexpected. I need a stiff drink, a long bath, and maybe a gummy to help me sleep. The thought comforts me as I reach for the door handle, but before I can push it open, it swings wide, and the next thing I know, I’m being shoved against the wall.

My mouth drops open in a half scream, but it’s immediately muffled by a long piece of duct tape smeared across my lips by a strong hand.

“Mmfhph!”

Those same strong hands grab me by the wrists, and I feel thin bands wrap around them—zip ties. I do my best to break the plastic, but it holds.

That’s when I start to panic.

That’s when I realize this is real. And something is wrong. And I’m in a lot of danger.

Tears immediately gather in my eyes in spite of myself. I might be a sad man. A lonely man. Maybe even a grumpy man. But I don’t want to die.

Not yet.

And not like this.

I don’t like pain—I never have. I have a long, shitty past where pain was the main focus, and I thought I had escaped. I thought I had put that all behind me. This can’t be it for me.