Page 46 of Theirs to Hunt

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Not until I know if he’s here to guard or devour.

Rae leans in, her breath hot in my ear. “Friend of yours?”

I don’t answer. Not because I don’t want to. Because I’m not sure.

But I can feel it in my chest.

Whatever this is, it’s just getting started.

Chapter thirty-nine

Reagan, Saturday 12:29 a.m.

Abuzz vibrates against my left boob, where I stashed my phone. I pull it out.

Fifty-two unread messages. All starting around 9:00 p.m.

It’s a little after midnight now.

The fuck?

I turn to Bobbie, ready to snap, but she’s gone.

She broke protocol. Walked out.

We never separate at a club. Not here. Not on Bourbon.

But then again… Anonymous.

I get it. Sort of.

Still, my gut tightens.

I shove back into the crowd, frantic, jumping to catch sight of her. Nothing. No flash of red dress.

So I look up.

The balcony.

Anonymous is there. Tense.

Eyes locked on the floor. He’s about to jump.

Shit.

I shove harder, brushing my back pocket to check the stun gun. Still there. Fully juiced.

I break through the wall of bodies and spot her.

Bobbie. Frozen mid-step.

There’s a guy behind her, grinding like a creep. But the look on her face stops me cold. Eyes wide. Mouth open. Not shocked. In shock.

His hand is through the cutout near her hip. Moving lower. Obscene.

My stomach turns.

“Motherfucker!” I scream, the word swallowed by bass.

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