“The hunt. It’s moved out on the next farm over. Headed this way.”
I stared at him a beat longer, then shrugged as reality kicked me in the nuts. “Well then. Sab on.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rae
There was no time to dissect the mess I’d made of things with Cash. With his kiss still burning my lips, his taste still seared on my tongue, I shut down the message from the unknown number, and we hit the road, following directions from the tip-off.
I didn’t let myself wonder if it was genuine. Fletch and I had sworn a plan to flush out whoever it was, expose them as if need be, but right now, only the hunt mattered.
IfI made it there alive.
As ever, Cash’s driving equal parts terrified and thrilled me, and this time, I sensed an undercurrent in him that I fuckingknewwas my fault.
I reached out and squeezed his arm. “Easy.”
He tossed me an irritated glare that clearly said “whatever” and cracked on.
“I mean it.” I gripped him harder. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“Like what?”
“Cash. Don’t fucking one-line me. I’m with you, okay? Let’s just get this over with first, preferably without dying in a car crash.”
The van slowed infinitesimally, but Cash kept his eyes on the road, showing no indication that he’d heard me, believed me, and could wait that long. Because that was what I sensed in him, a desperation for something, anything, I could give him, despite him being the one to push me away so forcefully in the first place. He wanted me, perhaps even needed me.
And I was right there with him. Whatever happened, my days of pretending I could give him up were over.
The hunt came up on us faster than I was ready for. We hit the lane leading to the neighbouring farm at the same time as the hounds. A swarm of tan and white leapt over the low, drystone wall as Cash jerked the handbrake up, skidding us to a stop.
Adrenaline punched through me, eclipsing the torment being with Cash had brought to my cynical heart. Hooves thundered, quad bikes roared. Thanks to the tip-off from my mystery friend, we’d driven right into the middle of the hunt.
Cash killed the engine. I ripped my seatbelt off, and opened my door, but he grabbed my arm before I could jump.
“Listen,” he said, his other hand clutching the driver door, ready to leap into the fray. “Today, when this is done, I’m taking you home.”
And then he was gone, springing out of the van and over the wall in a fluid motion that left me wanting to weep. Somehow, even though he’d left me with hope, it seemed final, as though what didn’t happen today would never happen at all.
I didn’t understand it, and there was no time to try. I abandoned the van and took off in the opposite direction to Cash, following the hounds, while he took on the horses. In my peripheral vision, I saw Meg and Fletch cross into the next field, bringing with them a band of weekend sabs. Then Sprig called my name and I realised that against all odds, we were all here. We had a chance.
Sprig sprinted up alongside me, chucking me a bag of our faithful raw chicken distraction. “Lead them west,” he shouted. “There’s a high wall over this field no fucker’s getting around.”
I didn’t know this small dairy farm well. Up until now, the owner had been the sole local farmer who’d refused Goon permission to trash his fields. And perhaps he still was. Over the past few months, Goon had proved more than ever that there were no rules anymore. At least none that he wasn’t prepared to break.
Regardless, I followed Sprig’s instructions, and joined the rear of the hound pack, laying my bait as soon as I was entrenched enough for the baying dogs to notice.
The first clutch began to follow me. I heard shouting and commotion from the mounted hunt hot on our tails, but I paid them no heed. Even Goon had yet to ride over his own hounds. In their midst, I was safe, if only for a few minutes. I didn’t let myself think about Cash.
I can’t.
We led the hounds west across the huge field, away from the scent they’d been tracking east. Something happened behind us to slow the horses, but still I didn’t look.
Quad bikes swept into the field to take their place. In open space, we had nowhere to run, so we kept going, making for a small copse of trees. Out of nowhere, a disoriented fox cub burst into the field, eyes wide, staggering, standard characteristics of an animal who’d been released from a cage with no bearings of where it was, or the danger it was in.
Despite our best efforts, the hounds smelt it. And then they saw it.
The fox was juvenile and green. It stood no chance, even if it had possessed the sense to run in the right direction.
