Page 74 of Monstrous Serpent

My heart rate picks up, breaths becoming shallow. “What’s going on? Dad?”

He disconnects the call and looks at both of us. “Blue's missing.”

Chapter 20

Atlas

The problem with Hunter is that he hides shit in boring places.

Not under the mattress. Not taped behind a drawer. Not inside the hollowed-out spine of some creepy survival manual like a serial killer with a library card. No. That would be too obvious, considering the man once watched an entire three-part documentary on pantry organization and called it “useful.”

His marshmallows are probably somewhere deeply stupid. Already checked the nightstand, under the bed, his sock drawer.

Nothing.

I pull open the bottom drawer of his dresser and stare at folded compression shirts stacked so neatly it’s offensive. “Jesus, Hunt. It’s fabric, not evidence.”

A bark comes from behind me.

I look over my shoulder. “Get off his bed. I'm serious. We’re not supposed to be in here.”

Mr. Smooshy rolls onto his back, tongue flopping out the side of his mouth, all four legs in the air. His tail whips against Hunter's pillow hard enough to send it halfway off the bed.

“No. Don’t wag at me like this is negotiable.”

He flops onto his side.

I scowl at him. “Did you not hear what I just said?”

He snorts.

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair. Listening is more of a Hunter thing.”

I check his desk, under the bed, even the nightstand.

Nothing.

“Your new friend is selfish.”

Mr. Smooshy sneezes.

“Exactly.”

I open the closet and riffle through his annoyingly organized hoodies, grumbling because where the fuck did he hide these things?

Then I see it. The top shelf of his closet, behind a folded towel that has no reason to be folded so perfectly.

I stretch up, shove the towel aside, and grin. “Jackpot.”

The bag of marshmallows is unopened, which means this is either a backup stash or Hunter is losing his edge. I’m going with backup stash because the day Hunter Kincaid loses his edge is the day I start voluntarily rinsing toothpaste out of the sink.

I hold up the bag. “Come on. You’re going to love these.”

The dog launches off the bed and barrels past me, nearly taking out my knees. I look back at Hunter's mattress. “You've got to be kidding me.”

The comforter is a mess, the pillow on the floor. And the fur.

So much fur.