Page 2 of Boys Who Hunt

But what draws my attention the most are three boys on the expensive leather couch in the back of the common room, drinking liquor straight from the bottle, all wearing LED purge masks that strike terror into the hearts of anyone who even dares to glance at them.

I’ve been at Spine Ridge University long enough to know exactly who to avoid.

These boys are at the top of my list.

The one on the left—a tall, muscular guy with a piercing in his lip and brow and tattoos all over—casually leans back into the couch as he takes a whiff of his cigarette right through the mask, his painted brown, medium-length hair loosely tucked into a bun, along with those black ear tunnels giving away who he is—Heath Preston, a notorious heartbreaker of Spine Ridge University, and the eldest of the three.

The one on the right, with his lanky but muscular frame and dark-brown hair swooping above his mask has a girl on his lap who’s suckling on his knife earring, but his head is tilted over the couch and his eyes are fixated on Heath as he bites his lip. Max Fletcher is the youngest of the boys, an eternal dreamer, and definitely the odd one in the crowd.

But the one that really makes all the hairs on the back of my neck stand up is the one in the middle. The shortest of the three, but the one who’s the most fucked up—Silas Rivera.

He flashes the expensive bottle of liquor, running his fingers through his black-tipped ear-length hair and white roots, the little heart-shaped tattoo on his face a stark paradox to the piercing green eyes that flicker through the mask with deadly precision as he aims the bottle at a guest’s head and chucks it at him.

The guest jumps aside, and the bottle smashes into a million pieces against the wall.

“No one said Phantoms were welcome tonight!” Silas yells.

The guy runs off through the crowd, and I step aside just in time for him to bolt through the door, leaving a cold gust of wind in his wake.

Silas Rivera laughs maniacally as the guy runs off, and the other partygoers laugh their asses off like it’s one big joke. He runs his fingers through his hair and sits back down as a girl approaches him from the side with a box of bonbons in her hand.

“Aw … Cutiepie’s getting a box of chocolates.” Heath chuckles, shoving his elbow into Silas’s ribs.

Silas looks at Heath like he’s about to chop his head off.

“For your birthday,” the girl says, blushing hard as she barely manages to glance at Silas.

Silas breaks out into a full grin, which reminds me of the Joker, the right edge of his full lips touching the heart-shaped tattoo on his cheek.

Suddenly, he grips her by the throat. “Chocolates. That’s what you bring me?”

He snatches them from her hand and chucks them at Max, whose girl stumbles off him like she’s scrambling to save her own life.

The noise in the room slowly dies down as they all focus on Silas and his tough grip on the girl’s throat.

“I … I …” she mutters.

“What?” He leans in with a wicked smile on his face. “Say it.”

“I like you.”

“Youlikeme?” The laughter emanating from his throat is nothing short of ominous. “Get on your knees for me, then.”

The girl is slowly pushed down by the sheer force of his fingers squeezing the life out of her neck. I clutch the doorjamb with allthe power I have to stop myself from intervening as a knife is flicked around.

He points it right at her face. “Do you like me enough to bleed for me?”

Her pupils dilate. “What?”

Heath leans forward too now, intrigued by the scene Silas is causing. “It’s his birthday. Don’t want to disappoint the birthday boy, do you?”

Silas holds the knife under her chin, and tears well up in her eyes as he slowly brings it to her lips. The whole room has gone deadly quiet. Even the music has died down.

“Do you want to make me happy?”

She nods.

The vicious smirk disappears. “Open your mouth.”

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