Page 121 of The Hunt

“No, I mean… when did the internet and streaming become a thing in general? 2000-ish? Or the late 90s?”

“Somewhere around then, yeah.”

“And when did Peter Jennings become the High Patriarch?”

“1999.”

I nodded slowly. “I’m guessing it was his idea, then. Bring the Wilders into the future and capitalize on the cyber revolution, or whatever,” I said. I paused for a beat, swallowing hard. “I can’t evenimaginehow much dark-web money must’ve been made for the society over the last twenty years.”

“I’m guessing hundreds of millions, based on what JJ said.”

“God. That’s insane.” I exhaled deeply, my head shaking. “One more question. What are you going to do about it?”

“About the Patriarchs, you mean? Now that I know the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Well, my first priority is ensuring your safety and getting you off this island. But once I’ve done that, I’m going to take those motherfuckers down.” Rhett’s voice had turned rough again, filled with fury. “They’ve lied and used the rest of us for so fucking long, just to line their pockets. So I don’t know how yet, but they’re going down. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’ll help you figure it out,” I said, slipping my hand into his. “I hate them just as much as you do.”

Rhett stopped abruptly, squeezing my hand tight. “Ev… taking down the society will be dangerous. You don’t owe me any help. Not after all the shit that’s happened to you, part of whichI’mresponsible for.”

I defiantly lifted my chin. “I know it’s dangerous,” I said. “But I’ll be okay. I have a guy who’s promised to watch out for me and eliminate anyone who gets in my way.”

He chuckled. “Using my promise against me, huh?” he said, moving an arm around my waist. “Very sneaky, princess.”

“We’re in this together, Rhett. Whether you like it or not.”

“I like it.” The amusement in his voice had vanished, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “Iloveit.”

We set off down the tunnel again, hand in hand. At the end, it opened onto a sprawling, overgrown estate shrouded in the eerie quiet of night. Wildercliff Manor loomed ahead, its hulking silhouette etched against the dark sky.

The windows of the sprawling west wing were dark. A massive arched doorway stood at the center, flanked by crackedstatues, their features eroded into grotesque, unrecognizable shapes.

“Welcome back,” Rhett murmured, his voice low and grim.

I laughed drily. “I’m suddenly struck by the urge to burn this whole place down.”

“One thing at a time,” he replied. “Right now, you need a hot shower and a full night’s rest. You’ll get that in there.”

“Good point.”

Just as we arrived at the doorway, a light suddenly switched on in the foyer beyond it, and Rhett stopped in his tracks. “Shit,” he muttered. “Get behind that statue. I’ll deal with this.”

I did as he said, ducking behind the closest statue as the door creaked open. A petite woman in a gray and white uniform stepped out, and she gasped as she caught sight of Rhett.

“Oh! Sorry, sir!” she said, one hand fluttering at her throat. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else on this part of the estate.”

“Sorry for scaring you. I didn’t know you’d be here either,” Rhett said, lifting a palm. “But hey, you might be able to help me with something.”

“Of course, sir.”

“I’m looking for my friend, Jacob Jennings. He’s the son of the owner.”

The maid smiled. “Oh, yes, I know who you’re talking about. I haven’t seen him, though.”

“Oh, damn. I thought he told me he was sleeping in the west wing tonight.” Rhett tilted his head. “Are you sure you didn’t see him in there? Or anyone else, for that matter?”

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