Ready Or Not (The Hunter’s Club #2)

Chapter 13

13

BITE BACK - n9neful

17 years old

It’s been three days since I kept Riley from killing her mom. She hasn’t spoken a single word to me since.

I pace my room, and an odd feeling runs through me.

I check my phone again. The tracker I put on Pup hasn’t moved in hours. I let him outside to keep my dad from killing him. I don’t care, but Riley cares.

And that means everything.

Despite the fact he’s a fucking coyote, I’ve been feeding him every day and keeping an eye on him. The fact he hasn’t moved has me concerned.

Unsure what to do with my restless energy, I throw on my shoes, grab my pistol, and head outside. Tracking through the summer heat sucks ass, but it beats the stifling silence from Riley.

She hates me for keeping her from killing her mom. But I followed her to the appliance store she got her poison from. They had recordings from all angles. She was fully recorded during the whole transaction, and in her rage, she didn’t notice.

But I did. As would every cop in the area.

It’s not like the cops can’t be bought out. But it’s the principle of it. Do it right, or you don’t deserve to do it at all.

I only allow the best for Riley.

When I come close to the spot my tracker indicates, I shake the bag of treats.

Nothing.

It takes only a few minutes of searching to find the body. Pup was shot.

I stare at his form, calculating. My dad wouldn’t do this. Pup was out of the house, so he didn’t care. So, who else?

I glance around at the surroundings. We’re close to the neighbor’s property. I don’t know his name, but I do know he has chickens.

I bet Pup was after the chickens, they shot him, and he drug himself out here to die.

I clench my jaw. How dare they touch something that belonged to my little pain?

I planned everything out for the next hour. Calm. Calculated. The only way to be when you’re planning something of this nature. I need Riley to understand this.

I shoot her a text.

Me: Meet me in the backyard. 10 mins

I stare at my phone but get no response, even after ten minutes have passed—then twenty.

I stuff my phone into my pocket. Fine.

It takes only ten minutes to get the neighbor—still don’t know his name—into the back field where Pup lay. It was easy. The man had no cameras, and his wife was at the store.

“You did this.” I point my gun at him. The man is old, in his 60s, and he trembles. “Did what?”

“The dog.”

The man looks down. “The coyote?”

“No, that’s my woman’s dog.” I shake my head at him.

“I’m sorry! I had no idea.” The man’s eyes are confused. I guess to him, the charming neighbor he once knew is now pointing a gun at his head.

I shrug, then fire a round into the man’s head.

He crumples. As I watch the blood pool into the ground near Pup, I feel my dick get hard.

I growl, “ I’m sorry doesn’t fix things for Riley.”

By the time I drag Pup back to the house, it’s dark. I’m hot and sweaty, but I get to work digging a hole under the tree. The grass is rough and sunbaked, and getting the spade in is hard.

This is ridiculous. Animals are leeches of energy, and the only purpose of a burial is not to get caught.

But, for some reason, this creature meant something to my little pain.

So I dig.

When I’m done, I go to dispose of the neighbor the right way.

Riley could have learned a lot. I’ll teach her to ignore me. And in the future, I’ll never give her another chance. If she ignores me, I’ll take everything that she cares about until it’s only me that she sees.