Page 108 of Hunter or Hunted

The door was my bait.

Eyes on his phone, Evan fiddled with the keys in his free hand. Only a few steps from the patio, clueless, he found the right one. He pinched it between his thumb and forefinger just as he stepped into my scope.

I clicked the trigger.

Once, twice, three times.

All three darts landed in the center of his chest.

He gasped, swatting at them as if they were hornets swarming, just as the lights from his truck flickered off.

“Son of a—” One of the darts, maybe two, clinked to the ground.

Those darts, and the needles that ran through them, were fit for a bear. When he smacked them away, he likely broke the needle off inside his skin.

Had it hurt? Did it still hurt?

I hoped it did.

He grasped hold of the 4x4 that held up the porch roof.

But the ketamine was already taking hold.

His legs began to wobble. He took another step forward, bracing against the porch support beam.

With one hand, he tapped around on his chest. Searching for the source of the pain, I assumed. Another clink sounded against the concrete, confirming he’d found it.

Still grasping the support beam, he leaned down. Likely trying to figure out what had just pierced his skin.

Legs wobbly in his squat, he fumbled with his phone. The light flicked on, trembling in his shaky hand.

As soon as the glow shimmered against the needle, he landed on his knees. His phone slipped from his sweaty fingers. He fell face-first, barely catching himself with one hand.

And I waited.

That tremble in his fingers stretched up his arm, all the way to his bicep, until the drugs hit that muscle group too and his arm gave out.

Good. He went down slow enough that he didn’t bash his head open.

Cheek flush to the concrete, his dopey eyes stayed open. His fingers twitched and his feet wiggled, but he wasn’t making it to that door.

Gaze fixed around the corner of the house, I swiped open my phone and clicked send on the pre-typed message to Sebastian.

Ready.

Surely invisible to any neighbors given the darkness of this road, of this home, I slid the blade from my pocket and walked along the concrete path that connected to the porch patio. Only a foot away from his head, I squatted next to him.

In a low, ominous voice, I said, “Are you scared yet?”

His wide eyes fixed on me, but no words left his parted, drooling lips.

“Allie was too.” I trailed the tip of the blade down his cheek. “But we’ll get to that. Enjoy your nap.”

36

SEBASTIAN

That patch of woods beside Evan’s home stretched on for a few miles. When we devised the plan, we’d debated whether we should utilize that stretch of woods or if we were better off grabbing Evan from his driveway. We landed on the former.