Chapter 3
Jake did not go back to school Monday.
By Tuesday morning, he had convinced himself that this was because Noah needed help and not because the sentence It smelled like you had rearranged several important pieces of his brain.
Noah was gone when Jake woke.
The couch was empty.
The borrowed blanket was folded.
For one horrible second Jake thought the hunters had gotten inside.
Then he found a note on the kitchen counter.
THANK YOU.
That was it.
Jake stared at the paper.
“No.”
Comet looked up from his water bowl.
“He does not get to do that.”
Comet drank.
“I fed him.”
Comet remained neutral.
“He wore my clothes.”
Nothing.
“He sniffed my neck.”
Comet sneezed.
“Thank you. Exactly.”
Jake searched the neighborhood before school.
Nothing.
He checked the edge of the woods.
Nothing.
He texted the number Noah had reluctantly put into Jake’s phone the night before.
JAKE: Where are you?
No response.
JAKE: You cannot disappear after telling someone a mystery wolf smells like them.
Still nothing.
JAKE: Also you owe me a hoodie.
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
Jake stared at the screen.
“You little—”
The first bell rang inside West Ridge High.
He shoved the phone into his pocket and ran.
He slipped into government class thirty seconds before Mr. Bell closed the door.
“Nice of you to join civilization, Miller.”
“Food poisoning.”
Mr. Bell looked at him.
“Your mother emailed the office and said stomach bug.”
Jake sat down.
“Same general region.”
His best friend, Marcus Reed, leaned over.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“No, like somebody buried you and you crawled back out.”
Jake pulled out his notebook.
“Long weekend.”
“It’s Tuesday.”
“Extremely long Monday.”
Mr. Bell cleared his throat.
Marcus faced front.
The classroom door opened.
The guidance counselor stepped in.
And behind her was Noah.
Jake dropped his pen.
Marcus looked at him.
Noah looked completely different.
Jeans. Clean sneakers. Black T-shirt. Backpack.
Normal.
Painfully normal.
Except Jake knew what his teeth could do.
Mrs. Henson smiled at the class.
“We have a new senior joining us. This is Noah Bennett.”
Jake’s eyes narrowed.
Bennett?
Noah met his gaze.
Do not.
Jake could practically hear it.
Mr. Bell gestured toward the empty desk.
Directly beside Jake.
Of course.
Because apparently the universe had discovered comedy.
Noah sat.
Jake stared straight ahead for twelve seconds.
Then he whispered, “Bennett?”
Noah opened a notebook.
“Not now.”
“You left a thank-you note.”
“Jake.”
“You enrolled in my school.”
“Apparently.”
“How?”
Mr. Bell stopped speaking.
“Miller?”
Jake smiled.
“Question about federalism.”
“Do you have one?”
“No, sir.”
Marcus covered a laugh with a cough.
Mr. Bell resumed.
Noah wrote something on the corner of Jake’s notebook.
STOP TALKING.
Jake wrote underneath it:
STOP SNIFFING PEOPLE.
Noah crossed it out so hard the paper nearly tore.
Ten minutes later, Jake noticed something else.
Noah was listening to the hallway.
Not casually.
His head tilted a fraction.
Jake followed his gaze toward the classroom door.
“What?”
Noah whispered, “Someone’s coming.”
Nobody was.
Then footsteps sounded outside.
Jake’s stomach tightened.
A man appeared in the narrow window beside the door.
Dark jacket.
Neat hair.
Middle-aged.
Jake had seen him in the woods.
The silver rod was gone.
The man smiled at someone in the hallway.
Noah went perfectly still.
Jake’s hand moved beneath the desk without thinking and closed around Noah’s wrist.
Noah looked down at it.
Then at Jake.
Mr. Bell kept talking about checks and balances.
The man outside turned his head.
Toward the classroom.
Noah whispered one word.
“Hunter.”