Page 68 of Twisted Little Game

I slide the rock out from my pocket.

“Ever seen anything like it before?” I ask Hunter, turning the dark stone over in my hand.

“Looks like a river rock. A big one,” Hunter tells me, and I hand it to him.

“Turn it over.”

He flips it and looks at the symbol, or symbols, on the other side.

“How about that?”

“Never,” Hunter says, looking it over. “It’s not a rune, or a druidic mark. Certainly not something from Double Daggers. Did you try reverse image searching it?”

I nod.

Hunter’s good at research too. Better than me, probably. He’s had a rough life, and last year he had to protect Rayne from people who wanted him dead for very different reasons.

I trust Hunter, even if he isn’t my family.

He glances up at me, calculating something behind his eyes. “I assume you wouldn’t give me details about where you found this even if I asked, right?”

“Probably not.”

He nods. “That’s okay. If you want, I can try to work on it tonight.”

“I would appreciate that.”

His eyes scan my face again. “Can I ask if it has to do with Tate?”

“It does.”

“I see. I can try to figure this out, but it could be someone trying to send a message when there really isn’t a message.”

“Yes. I’m afraid of that.”

I stand up from the sofa and pace a few steps around the living room, then into the hall. From here I can glimpse a sliver of the kitchen, and I watch Tate, laughing as he carries a giant baking pan toward the oven.

How could anyone want you dead?

In what world…

“Maybe check the comments of some of the hate articles written about Tate,” I say, thinking out loud to Hunter. “See if there are any consistent people. Consistent ways of writing, even if the usernames are different.”

“Got it.”

I head back upstairs and try to do some studying.

But ten minutes later, I slide out my phone.

Roman

You look very good today.

Blondin

I’ll look even better when I’m serving you a slice of my cake. Should I put on a French maid outfit?

Quit it.