Page 588 of Filthy Elites

“Guys,” Rhys calls from the trail. “Someone really ought to stay here, to show the police where you guys went when they arrive.”

I nod and follow Cam deeper into the woods.

As we walk, I attempt to prevent my mind from wandering, but with each step, it calculates the likelihood of us being on the right path, of us arriving in time. Camden’s family is from England. They have land in the country, and he’s tracked and hunted game most summers since his childhood, but he’s no fucking Aragorn. There’s a chance he might have followed the wrong tracks. There’s a chance Erica’s elsewhere, alone and vulnerable.

“Over there,” Cam whispers, killing his light.

We’ve reached a small wooden cabin I’ve never come across before, in the thickness of the grove. A dim light comes from inside, moving with the shadows. I don’t think I’ve ever been this far off the trail, but the cabin looks like it’s been there for a while.

Camden tilts his chin to his left side, and I understand he wants us to split up. I approach the hovel from the back, walking slowly and silently, my eyes never leaving the entrance.

My foot snaps a branch—the only noise I hear in the quiet woods. I wince, stand still for a moment, then keep walking toward the back door, just as it crashes open.

A hooded figure rushes out, glancing over their shoulder, so they don’t even see me before we collide. I only get a flash of his face, but that’s enough to recognize his straight nose, tiny eyes, and thin mouth.

I punch his face, hard, before even saying a word. I don’t doubt for a moment Vince deserves it. “Where is she? Where’s Erica?” I punch him again for good measure.

The asshole laughs. He has the gall tolaugh.

I could kill him. If I’d had any tools at my disposal to do so, I would have, right then, no question. But I don’t have any knife or gun, so I use my fists, again and again.

“Answer me!”

My scream is swallowed by a thunderous explosion behind me. I’m propelled forward, falling on Vince’s body with the momentum.

The asshole on the ground is still laughing.

“Boom,” he says. “Funny what it takes. A bit of gas, a candle. Ding, dong, the bitch is dead.”

I look behind me. Where the wooden cabin stood moments ago, there’s nothing but fire, a pyre reaching to the sky, higher than the trees.

No.

No, no, no, no.

“You’ll thank me in the end. She was evil.”

My ears are clogged and ringing, but I hear him all the same.

I draw back my fist, and punch as I scream. Then I punch again.

It’s not the first time I’ve hit a guy. Hell, it’s not even the first time I’ve hit this guy. There’s a difference, though. Before, I was holding back, instinctively reluctant to cause real harm to a human being—that, or careful to save my throwing arm. My fists hit him with unrestrained rage, punch after punch, ignoring all his pleas, all his screams. I even ignore his silence. My fists are sticky with blood and I’m still punching his head to the ground, unrestrained.

“Chase!” She sounds like an echo, at first. Almost like a memory. “Chase, we need to go.”

My fists still long enough to glance back.

Beyond the house, Cam’s walking toward me, Erica wrapped in his arms.

She’s okay.

She’s here.

She’s fine.

I repeat it to myself because I can’t quite believe it.

She says something to Cam, and he sets her down gently. Erica wobbles to me. “We have to go, Chase. The fire’s reached the trees. Please, let’s just go.”

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