ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴏʏs (Book 1)

xii. whistle me a tune

Tyler was absolutely ecstatic that he was finally able to use the crossbow gun Clyde had given him after his first year of joining the family. Everyone got something on their first year. It was considered—to Clyde, at least—an important and special occasion.

Tyler searched through the dark woods carefully, turning on his feet anytime he heard a sound or saw a shadow faintly out of the corner of his eyes. He began imagining all the things he'd do to the mute once he found her. The possibilities excited him like a giddy schoolgirl. He grinned at the thoughts. Betting if he hit the right spot, he could make her scream. He held his crossbow gun in hand—ready to aim and shoot at any given moment. The satchel of arrows hung limply on his shoulder. His eyes watched like a hawk, penetrating the darkness between the trees.

Suddenly, in the distance, he heard a twig snap under the pressure of someones carelessly stomping. He quickly turned in the direction, his crossbow aiming instantly—and just like that, he spotted her. Her dress clung to her slim frame as she ran. Bolting past large evergreen trees. As if her life depended on it. Clever little mute. His mouth twitched as he watched her—waiting for the right moment. He pulled the trigger and the arrow ripped into the darkness. But before he could see her go down, he was suddenly tackled to the floor. 

"What the fuck!" Tyler cursed when he pushed Kaleb away. His blood boiling with irritation. "I almost fucking had her!"

Kaleb groaned as he sat up. "Exactly, dumbass," he murmured and brushed the dirt off his hands, "that's why I had to stop you."

Tyler shifted his glare into a questioning look. "What?" 

"You can't kill her now. We just started the fucking game. If you kill her off too soon you'll have Colton and Spencer on your ass. And you know how badly they want her. It'd be undoubtably idiotic to get in between the two and their pissing contest."

"So, what? The rest of us don't even get a shot?"

Kaleb shrugged simply. "I don't know and I don't need to know. All I really know is they need to be the ones to catch her, and it would be extremely fuckin stupid to come between that, ok?" So don't do it you big idiot!

Even though Tyler was pissed that Kaleb ruined his perfect shot, he knew his brother was right. "Fine." he hissed under his breath. "But you owe me an arrow." He pointed to the darkness between the trees. "Go get mine."

Kaleb snorted, and he stood up. Brushing off his shirt casually. "Hey, dip-shit, I just saved your ass. You get it." He walked passed Tyler, heedless of how close he was. Tyler reluctantly leaned out of the way before he could get trampled. A look of annoyance contorting his features.

He glared at Kaleb's back as he walked away. With a curl of his upper lip, he pushed off the ground and stood. Grumbling under his breath in a fit of rage, he pulled out his flashlight and began searching for his arrow. Shining light on every inch of the moss covered ground.

After a while, when he couldn't seem to find any trace of his arrow, he was beginning to get vexed.

But then, like a beautiful gift, he found something better—blood. And a lot of it. A slow grin curled on Tyler's lips.




Sutton bit down on her lip to hold back her whimpers. Her eyes screwed shut with fresh tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. Her teeth, chattering behind her lips from pain. Her fingers lingered around the stray arrow lodged through her thigh—too afraid of the pain she might feel if the arrow were moved even the slightest.

She clenched her hands to stop them from trembling. Her palms moist with sweat.

When she tried to remove the arrow, her grip slipped and she accidentally jerked the wood in her flesh. Sutton bit down on her clamped lips and let a throaty cry rumble as she stared with tear-filled eyes at the tree looming over her. The leaves kissing the stars in the navy sky.

She knew there'd be pain, lots of it, and that left her gritting her teeth as she cried to God to give her the strength. The fear of physical discomfort (the stinging, the throbbing—the blood) alone left her trembling.

Every time she'd even brush the arrow, it'd move in her wound just enough to send excruciating pain shooting up and down her leg. The agony was unbearable. Worse than anything Sutton had ever felt in her entire life. She hit the ground beside her repeatedly with silent cries.

Mustering up every ounce of courage and strength, she inhaled deeply through her nose. Her eyes stayed glued heavenward as her trembling hand gripped the head of the arrow and snapped it off. The stick wiggled in her wound and she cried.

She pressed her quivering lips together with hot tears welling up in eyes. Before she lost her strength, she yanked the end of the arrow out with both hands. The feel of the foreign object being removed from her gaping wound made her skin crawl. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream. She chucked the bloody stick away in disgust.

This isn't happening. This can't be happening.

Dark red blood, almost black in the night light, leaked out of her wound. More blood than she was comfortable with seeing coming out of her own body. Did the arrow hit an artery? Sutton mentally pondered with sudden fear. She examined the wound from afar. No, there was a lot of blood, but not enough to be from a major artery.

But looking at it alone began to make her feel lightheaded.

She ripped off a long strip from the hem of her dress. Wrapping the fabric around her thigh. She hissed as she tightened the second knot. Her blood already beginning to taint the white material right before her eyes. With a deep inhale, she brushed a stray tear and leaned against the tree.

She stared at the stars again. Her breath hitching and the adrenaline weighing on her muscles. Sutton always thought adrenaline was supposed to give someone extra strength or stamina, so why did she feel so utterly exhausted?

When a light flashed in the distance, her heart leaped in her throat. No! With a cry, she quickly got up and ran.