Page 4 of Monstrous Serpent

Let's see how that works out for her.

Chapter 2

Atlas

The granola bar wrapper slides across the dash pad when Hunter takes a left turn a little too fast. He grabs it and then drops it into the cupholder without taking his eyes off the road. “Told you to clean the fucking car.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I grab the half-empty bottle of Gatorade from the footwell, twist off the cap, then take a swig. “Ugh. It’s warm.”

Hunter's eyes cut to me, then to the bottle, then back to the road.

“What?”

“There’s another empty one under your seat.”

I roll my eyes. “I'll get it later.”

“You said that three weeks ago.” His jaw flexes. He's probably trying to restrain himself from arguing about how I’ve turned our truck into a biohazard again.

Technically, it’s my truck. But what’s mine is his ever since he moved in with my family.

“So, Cap’s meeting that chick he's been fucking around with.” I prop my feet on the glove box. “The one with the boyfriend.”

“Don’t care.”

“I'm just saying, our new captain isn't exactly worried about the boyfriend situation.” I take another swig of the orange Gatorade, put the cap on, then toss it back onto the floor.

“Still don’t care.”

I turn and look at him. “But you did care when it was announced he was our new captain.”

“Because Reyes is more like us than Blackwell.”

“Watch your fucking mouth. Kill was a good captain.” And he’s my friend, even if he did punch me that one time after I bodied his boyfriend during regionals. “Are you going to bitch about Reed now?”

Not that my best friend complains much. Most of the time, Hunter is silent. I’m the one who always has something to say. But after eight years of friendship, I can tell he’s also fuming over the fact that Jackson Reed is our new assistant coach.

Hunter’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “He’s a fucking Titan.”

“Was a Titan. He graduated. And you know what happened, why he’s here.”

He doesn’t say anything.

“As long as he helps us beat his former team, I don’t really care.” I look out the window as he turns the F-250 onto the gravel road leading to the Pine Barrens.

Pitch pines line both sides of the road, getting thicker the farther we go. It's quiet out here. No houses, no traffic, no noise. Just gravel popping under the tires.

My shoulders creep up toward my ears. I force them down, but my knee starts bouncing. So, I press my palm into it.

Fucking stop.

Hunter's breathing has slowed, grip easing on the steering wheel. The woods settle him. They've always been a part of him—the good and the bad.

I hate that they still scare me.

But Hunter’s got my back. Always. And that helps.

My phone buzzes.