Ready Or Not (The Hunter’s Club #2)

Chapter 46

46

Dangerous State of Mind - Chri$tian Gate$

I make it to Dad’s place. While I’m digging under the tree, I can’t keep an odd feeling out of my head that Riley got away.

Impossible. It’s impossible. I’m just being obsessive.

My shovel hits something hard. I dig more carefully, unearthing the skeleton.

Trust. I have to get her to trust me. And somehow, I have to trust her back?

I keep digging, carefully removing the skull. It’s brown and dirty and frail. Rachel will fix it for me. I’ll make her. This is actually disgusting.

What am I even doing?

What if Riley managed to get out? I can check on her without breaking trust.

I whip out my phone, checking her location with the tracker I slipped into her shorts.

What the fuck?

Jesus fucking Christ .

My wife is not at home.

My next moves are a blur. I throw everything in the truck and floor it toward her location.

When I find she’s moved spots, my entire body is locked up. What happened? What is she doing?

I pull up my scanner for the area Riley’s in. It’s close to where Noel used to live, but it isn’t his house. What is she doing? What could have brought her out there? I don’t hear anything on fire traffic, which sends a bolt of relief through me. But when I switch to police, every single muscle I have tightens.

Need more units. Subject is 10-7. Dead.

What in the absolute fuck?

Riley’s tracker has her moving away from the house and back to ours. I switch directions, flooring it to intercept her, but she must be fucking flying because by the time I get back, there’s a car in the driveway, and Riley is leaning on the porch, covered in blood.

She’s acting completely unharmed.

“It’s locked.” She looks at her nails, which are bloody.

I don’t say anything to her. I can’t, or I’ll kill her right here. I simply unlock the door, and she tosses me a cheeky smile and goes inside herself. She marches straight down to where I want her to go: the basement.

“Rachel!” Riley snaps.

Rachel scrambles to her feet. She’s still chained up, right where I left her. So how in the fuck did Riley get away?

“Did you think you could just…decide you’re in charge?” Riley snatches Rachel up by her neck.

“I didn’t—are you hurt?” Rachel looks between Riley, me, and the crawl space. So that’s how she got out.

My phone dings.

“Riley,” I bark. “Want to explain what the fuck you were doing?”

Riley looks manic, shoving her face in Rachel’s. “When I say come, you come. When I say jump, you jump? Got it?”

Rachel looks afraid, and my phone dings again.

“Riley.” I grab her shoulder and rip her back.

Riley still tries to get at Rachel. “You’re mine, Rachel. You got that? You’re fucking mine .”

My phone dings again. “What?” I rip it out of my pocket. It’s my cop contact. He’s freaking out about something, I see Riley’s name, and he sent some video clip.

I tap on it.

The video looks like it’s been filmed from inside a bathroom. Then it pans up, and my heart stops.

There’s Riley, standing in someone’s office with a gun in her hand. She has a mask on, but I know it’s her. Her two long braids run down her front, and her leg tattoos are visible under her shorts.

I can feel my heartbeat in my ears, the thump thump thump. In the video, Riley stomps on someone. At least, what used to be someone. All I see is a bloody mess of what used to be a head. Riley is laughing maniacally, crushing the pulp over and over.

For a second, I flash back to my mom.

Fuck, Manson. Focus.

I read the messages. The video has been posted all over social media.

I grip my phone so hard it hurts, and everything comes crashing down around me. This is everything I’ve tried to protect Riley from, everything I worked so hard to prevent.

“Are you okay?” Rachel’s voice cuts through the fog.

I blink up at her. She’s staring at me with concern on her face. Even Riley has turned.

“Is everything…okay?” My voice is low and dangerous. “Is it okay ?”

I take a step forward, and Riley steps in front of Rachel, holding her hand out to block me. “Fuck off, Manson.”

“Look.” I shove the phone at them and let the video play. They watch in silence, but I can still hear the video. The manic laughter and the squishing sounds of the person’s brain as Riley stomped any future she had into the ground. My hand is shaking the whole time, but I don’t care.

The video stops, and Riley purses her lips. “I ruined my shoes.”

With that one little comment, I lose my mind. I snatch Riley by the shoulders and shove her back until she slams into the basement wall just hard enough that she lets out a breath. She smiles up at me. “What’s wrong?”

I grab her by the braids and yank her head back. I see the tears fill her eyes. “Riley.” I swallow to keep my voice from shaking. “That’s all over social media.”

“I wore a mask, dumbass.”

“You’re recognizable.” I give another sharp rip to the braids she branded her murder with. “You’re all over the internet, Riley!” My voice gets higher. I’m so out of control right now, and I can’t do anything about it.

“Send it to The Hunter’s Club. They should accept my application now.”

I lose it, my voice a yell, “I can’t protect you from this!”

“I didn’t ask you to!” Riley is finally screaming it at me. “I didn’t fucking ask you to, Manson!”

I can’t see straight. She’s swirling in front of me.

I let go of her so I don’t hurt her and step back, running my hand through my hair and pacing viciously. I can’t…I don’t know what to do. Riley looked so much like herself in that video; there’s no plausible deniability. I can protect her from a lot of things, but when social media gets involved, there are certain things I can’t erase from the public mind.

“Let me help.” I register the words before I associate them with Rachel. I glance over at her.

“I’m a hairdresser. I can help.” She crosses her arms.

I laugh bitterly. A haircut isn’t going to solve this problem.

“I’ll make her look different. We’ll cut her hair off, bleach it, get her some glasses, and we’ll erase her old social media accounts.” Rachel motions at Riley.

I try to suck in a few breaths.

“You’re not cutting my hair,” Riley scoffs.

Rachel crosses her arms. “You left it out. So we have to cut it off.”

“Fuck. That. You’re not touching my hair.”

And it’s that reaction that changes my mind. Like fuck does Riley get to deny help. Especially when we’re trying to save her from herself.

I nod at Rachel. “What do you need?”