Wild Tiger Chase | Book #2 (Complete)

12: decaying

— Léon —

Bonee let out a low growl and Léon widened his eyes. "He's coming," he said in a rushed tone, skittering to slip back into his hammock. The tigress followed, jumping on him with cat-like grace.

Modraniht looked up, then down at the dismantled phone before him. He collected its pieces, pushed them into his pocket, and leaned against the tree trunk at his back, closing his eyes as if he was sleeping.

Even if they had decided to work with Cae, none of them wanted to actually trust him. Because of that, Mondraniht smooth-talked one of the barbarians into bringing him Léon's backpack—and with it, his phone.

Phillip chuckled and looked at Léon, sucking at a large mango seed. "Do you really think the old man can fix your phone?" Like a lazy ferret, Phillip was stretched belly-down on a foldable bed, half-hanging from its edge as if tempting gravity itself. There was mango juice all over his face and hand, wet and shiny under the morning light.

Léon rested his chin on the back of his hand. "Well, I can hope."

Not a minute later, two hands pushed the bushes and the ragged fabric around their new camping area—one of the perks of accepting to work for Count Cae. It was as private as it could be in the middle of a barbarian camp, but Cae was still close enough to make Léon uncomfortable.

"Good morning!" Cae said, stepping in. His eyes rested on Phillip, and he raised a single brow, the corner of his lips quirking up. He pulled a handkerchief from the front pocket of his shirt and threw it at Phillip. "I was expecting more professionalism from Red Menace of all people."

The seed slipped from Phillip's fingers. He sat up and blinked, schooling his expression. "You know my secret identity. So what? Half of New Continent knows it too—it was plastered on the news for weeks."

Cae made a show of shrinking his shoulders as a toxic smile broke across his lips. "Half of New Continent don't have the means to find out every little thing about you—and those around you. Let this be my warning, all right? Telling me things is the law around here." His hand rested on the holster at his waist. "And I'm an expert at punishing people who"—his smile widened—"break the law."

Phillip raised to his feet and tossed the handkerchief aside. He snarled; his lips curled up like a wild dog's. Before he said anything, Léon jumped to his feet and reached for Phillip's arm.

"I don't care why you're telling us this now, no one here is obligated to —"

"Right," Cae interrupted. "That reminds me—We'll break camp. Get ready."

Modraniht uncrossed his arms. He wasn't pretending to sleep anymore. "What you mean we? Didn't you say us three would track the lost kid?"

"I told you to find the kid, yes. I never said you'd be alone." Cae snapped his fingers, and a barbarian entered their camping area.

The barbarian approached Léon first and took his hand. Gently, he placed a small device against the tip of his right forefinger. The little machine whirred and clacked. Something pricked Léon's finger pad.

"Ouch!" He pulled his hand and sucked at the drop of blood forming on its tip. "What did you do?"

Grinning, the barbarian cleaned the device, replaced its needle, and turned to Modraniht. "Your hand, please."

Modraniht offered it to the barbarian, but his serious gaze was glued on Cae. "Seriously?"

The little machine whirred and clacked, but Modraniht didn't even flinch when his finger was punctured. The barbarian frowned. When they removed the device, Léon saw several small scars on Modraniht's index finger.