Page 119 of The Hunt

“Yes,” I said, brows furrowing.

“That’s the west wing. It’s older than the rest and used a lot less, because the north and east wings are closer to the hunting grounds, and everyone wants a chance to catch a glimpse of the action,” he explained. “So the Wilders always stay in those parts, while the west wing is basically a giant ghost town. As long as we’re careful, no one should see us sneak in there.”

“Is that why they put us there when we were kids?” I asked. “Because they didn’t want us to run into any of the Wilders who were there for the ritual?”

Rhett nodded. “Yup.”

“But why even bring kids here in the first place?” I asked, nose wrinkling.

“It’s because most members want to be here for the final senior trial every year, so they can congratulate the new members and welcome them into the brotherhood,” heexplained. “It happens over the summer, so some of the guys bring their wives and kids and ditch them in the west wing of Wildercliff for a few days, so they can relax or play on the beach while all the Wilder shit goes on in other areas. No one’s ever had any issue with it, because it’s a nice place to stay, as long as you stick to the boundaries.”

“Right,” I muttered. “So you really think it’ll be okay for me to go there now?”

“Yes. People usually only stay in the west wing during summer. And if anyone happens to be there anyway and sees us…” Rhett trailed off, brows lifting. “Well, I already told you what’ll happen to them.”

I looked up at the rapidly darkening sky. “You were right before. We should head off before this weather gets any worse,” I said. “I’m glad it’s almost dark, though. It’ll cover us better once we arrive at the manor, right?”

“Yes. For now, we’ll stick to the dead zones, and then we’ll head into a tunnel. That way no one will spot us on the live stream.” Rhett glanced at his watch. “It’ll take about two hours, but if you’re too tired to walk, I can carry you.”

I smiled faintly. I knew he wasn’t just pretending to be some big macho man. He reallywouldcarry me all the way if he had to. “Thanks,” I said. “I can walk, though.”

We covered Jake’s body with a small tarp we found in his bag, just in case. Then we trudged away through the underbrush for about half an hour, sticking to safe corridors with blind spots, until we finally arrived at a tunnel entrance. Its mouth was framed by jagged stone, and thick tendrils of ivy clung to the edges.

“Wait.” Rhett lifted a hand to stop me from entering. Then he dropped his bag and started rifling through it. “We need to deal with your wristband before we go any farther.”

“Oh, shit. I forgot all about this thing,” I said, nervously running my fingertips over the black and silver band. “It’s GPS-tracked, isn’t it?”

“Yup. If you break it, it’ll instantly register with the tech guys, and they’ll report it. Then the Patriarchs will know something is up and start looking for you,” Rhett said. He paused and rose to his full height again, holding up a tiny screwdriver. “But if we remove it properly, so it still works, they won’t know anything’s happened. They’ll just think you found a good spot to hide for a while.”

“Okay.”

Rhett crouched down in front of me, his expression calm but focused. “Give me your wrist.”

I extended my arm, and he carefully cradled it in his hand, turning the wristband so the underside faced up. The screwdriver gleamed in his other hand as he angled it toward the tiny screws securing the band to my wrist.

“This is going to take a minute,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. “Hold still.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse ticking in my throat as I watched him work. His movements were deliberate and meticulous, his brow furrowed in concentration. I realized I’d never seen him behave so gently before. His hands, capable of so much violence, were now steady and careful as they brushed over my skin.

“What happens if—” I stopped abruptly, unwilling to voice the sudden fear bubbling up my throat.

“If I fuck it up?” Rhett finished without looking up. A faint smile ghosted his lips, but his eyes remained sharp as he eased the first screw free and set it aside. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

As he worked, I kept my arm as still as possible, trying to focus on how warm his touch felt against my wrist or how his thumb unconsciously stroked my skin, calming me without words. Finally, with a faint click, the last screw gave way. Rhettremoved the band in one smooth motion, holding it delicately between his fingers as though it were a live wire.

“There.” He stooped and placed the wristband behind a large moss-covered boulder. “Now it looks like you’re still playing the game. No one will know you’re actually up at the Lodge. I can also come back out here every few hours and move it, so the tech guys won’t get suspicious when they see your tracker in the exact same spot on the map all the time.”

I rubbed at the raw skin on my wrist, relief flooding me. “Thanks,” I murmured, lifting my hand to my earbud. “Should I get rid of this too?”

“I don’t think they have trackers on them. But toss it just in case.”

I did as he said, throwing the earbud into the nearby underbrush. Then I turned back to the tunnel entrance.

Inside, the air was damp and cool, carrying the faint metallic tang of rust and decay. The walls, reinforced with slabs of concrete and thick steel beams, loomed high above us, curving into an arched ceiling that stretched wider than I anticipated.

“This is a lot bigger than I remember,” I said, forehead wrinkling.

“It’s a different tunnel than the one we came through as kids. But they’re all bigger now,” Rhett replied. “About ten years ago, they were widened and reinforced.”

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