Page 5 of Runaways

Tate purses his lips. "I guess I didn't really think either of them would go through with something so stupid."

"What? You didn't think someone smart with money would actually want my mom? And me?"

"Noah, Tate's right," Silas says. "Normal people don't do shit like that."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he wants to control her," Silas says. "They just met, Noah. He knows she has nothing and no family, and he wants her to quit her job and move to another city with him. And he's already yelling at her like that. YouknowI know what I'm talking about."

"Itisweird, Noah," Mia adds.

"Well…I don't know what any of you expect me to do about it."

"He's going to hit her," Silas says. "Or you. Orworse. And when he does, you better fucking tell me. I'll cut his damn hands off."

I scoff, shaking my head. "Okay."

"I'm serious. It'd be pretty hard to overpower someone without any fucking hands."

"That's actually a pretty good idea," Tate says. "I bet the jail time for cutting someone's hands off is nothing compared to murder. I'm sure the public would support your mission, and with that pretty face, you'd be America's fucking sweetheart."

"And then we can eat them. Like that sweet little bedtime story your grandma used to tell you, Noah," Silas says.

"Oh god, don't remind me," I tell him. "I'll have nightmares tonight, too."

"What story?" Tate asks.

"Um, just something stupid my grandma used to tell me to keep me out of the woods when I was little that should never—under any circumstances—be told to a child."

"The one with the cannibal kids," Mia says.

"Cannibal kids? What? How am I the only person who hasn't heard this story? That'sveryrude, Noah."

"Sorry for not sharing more of my childhood traumas with you."

"You should be," Tate says. "I thought this meant something to you. Go on, tell me your cannibal bedtime story."

I sigh and roll my eyes. "When I lived with my grandma, she told me there used to be a small settlement in the forest where all the parents went out looking for food one day and never came back. And so, the kids ended up raising themselves in thewild, and when they ran out of food, they'd put on masks and go to the nearest town and play pranks on the people who lived there. They'd pick a couple of people or households to target at a time, hoping to goad them into coming into the forest to get revenge on them."

"And then they'd eat them," Mia finishes.

"Pretty much. They wanted them to come to them, and they'd be waiting with weapons and traps, and they'd kill them and eat them. Winter is long, and it's hard to outsmart an animal in their own habitat. It's easier if you can get one to brazenly come to you."

"That's my personal preference as well—get my prey to come to me," Tate says. "Not exactly great for a bedtime story, but it makes sense that it was yours."

"Yep, until I was about six." That's when my mom got out of jail and moved in with us. A couple of years later, my grandmother passed, and we ended up here. "It was a local legend in her town—they even had these fucked up plays and reenactments. They acted like this community of runaways still existed, and I believed it, so…I guess it worked. It kept me out of the woods."

"Shit, that is fucked up," Tate says, laughing.

I roll my eyes. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"I'm going inside," Mia says, pushing off from the log. "The fox stinks."

"Good night," Tate says over his shoulder.

Mia pauses. "Noah, aren't you coming with me?"

"Um…yeah." Reluctantly, I stand, brushing off the back of my shorts before following her.

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