Let's Hunt Her (Book #2)

₵Ⱨ₳₱₮ɆⱤ ₴ɆVɆ₦

The closer we get to my hometown, the more my stomach churns. For the past hour, I've been resisting the urge to look over my shoulder at the other passengers, wondering what type of threat might be lurking there. Instead, I fidget in my seat and tap the armrest with my fingers, unable to sit still. Ever since we left the hotel I've had this uneasy, vulnerable feeling, as though something ominous and deadly might spring out of every shadow. Sehun insisted it would be unlikely that a fellow Strategia would be on the bus with us, but he insisted I wear a wig, which he just happened to have in his luggage, like it's common to pack disguises along travel-sized deodorant.

I stare out the bus window, watching the familiar tree-lined highway, but the monotony of it only unsettles me more. I pull at the edge of the lopsided scarf Jisoo knitted for me last winter and look at Sehun, who seems lost in thought himself. The bus slows, but instead of feeling relieved that the wait is over, I'm even more worried. Worried that I'll find something at my house that will confirm that appa's in danger. And worried I won't find anything at all.

"Coming?" Sehun says, and I realize the bus had stopped and he's already standing. He pulls down our bags from the overhead compartment.

"Right," I say.

I sneak a look at the other passengers on the bus as I stand. They seem like regular people-two families, one with a sleeping baby, a couple of girls in their twenties with headphones on, and so on. But if a Strategia were on this bus, wouldn't they blend in as ordinary, too? How would I ever know if we were being followed?

No one else gets up and I'm grateful; if someone from my town were on this bus, they would likely recognize
me, wig or not, and badger me with questions about where I had disappear to for the last few weeks. The entire town would know I was here within the hour and Sheriff Jackson would be knocking on my door.

I followed Sehun down the aisle and outside. The trees are bare and the air is freezing, even in the afternoon sun. I pull my hat down farther over my ears and tuck my hands into my gloves. The bus pulls away, revealing Spring Day Lane-a street that I've walked down more times than I can count.

"You see these roses," eomma says, pointing to the bushes covered in pale pink flowers that crowd both sides of the street. "These are beach roses. Rosa rugosa."

"Rosa rugosa," I repeat.

"Here, smell," eomma says, bending down and bringing one of the pink flowers to my nose. My face lights up and she smiled at my reaction. "Delicious, aren't they? Wild roses always smell the best. You know why?"

I shake my head.

"Because they ones you buy at the florist prioritize their looks over their other properties," she says like it's a shame. "But these? These are hardy. They are strong and bold and even though they love the sun, they aren't afraid of a little frost. They are edible and the leaves and hips have medicinal purposes. When I gave you the middle name Rose, I named you after this kind of rose, not the kind that makes a pretty bouquet but isn't good for much else."

She slips her warm hand back in mine and we continue our walk. As I stare up at her, I can't help but he proud of all she knows.

"We should get off the main road," Sehun says, watching me curiously.

I sigh, pulling myself out of my memory. "Jeongsan is a block that way," I say, pointing to my right. And an unexpected sadness washes over me. Even though I'm close, I can't go there, not unless I want all of Jeongsan following me down the street like our town's parade. "But we can't take the streets, even the back streets. I would run into at least ten people I know. We'll have to take the woods." I look down at my scuffed, mud-strained boots and his shiny laced ones. "Will you be okay in those?"