When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 82: Runaway Part Two

Chapter 82: Runaway Part Two

The two hitmen had run about half of the distance from the cult to the riverside before pausing to catch their breaths.

Hunter wiped his forehead and nodded at Kant’s thigh. "How’s your leg?"

"Fine." Kant brushed it off, not in the mood for anything. There was an unpleasant buzz, nothing concerning. It was just sore.

They continued at a slower pace, but Hunter halted after a few steps, his fingers grazed his gun.

"Hear that?"

Kant furrowed his brow, listening in. There was an unusual rustling in the tall shrubs about twenty meters away. Whatever was in there was too big to be a rabbit but too small to be Bigfoot.

Wouldn’t have been concerning if the bush hadn’t been shaking like it had a vendetta.

A faint curse came from within. The next thing they knew, a figure crawled out. He was a mess of dirt-streaked clothes and wild brown hair, looking like he’d escaped a horror movie.

Hunter scoffed, straightening. "A homeless guy?"

Kant huffed a sigh of relief, already moving.

Gabriel didn’t seem to notice them, somewhere in his own world. He pushed himself upright, pressing his fingers to his temple, his other hand braced against a tree. A slow, uneven breath left him, head tilted downward.

Kant slowed, a strange feeling nagging at him.

A moment of stillness.

Then Gabriel cursed sharply, stomping on the snow with one leg. "I mean, what the fuck do I look like? A fucking doormat? Oh, get a load of this—the ghosts won’t leave me alone, but the people fucking ghost me! Ha! Haha!"

He held onto the wide tree trunk, but it was hard to tell whether he was trying to shake its roots out of the ground or steady himself. "God, my head hurts! Can’t this painkiller fucking kick in already?!"

Kant was still midway, keeping a respectable distance. He gulped as snowflakes scattered from the treetop, twirling past his eyes. That was a lot of angry "fucking" in one go.

Gabriel looked up with a huff, blue flames burning in his eyes—then they flickered and dimmed as he finally noticed who was standing before him.

For a second, no one said anything, the wind whistling awkwardly through the trees.

Kant watched the existential crisis flash across Gabriel’s face—first confusion, then realization, then utter, soul-deep horror. His fingers tensed against the tree bark like he was physically holding himself back from evaporating on the spot.

Hunter snorted. "The hell’s he doin’?"

Like a spooked deer, Gabriel turned so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet, kicking up snow as he staggered, caught himself, and ran.

"Gab—" Kant took a step forward on instinct.

Hunter’s hand shot out, catching his arm before he could move. "You sick fuck, you see a Byers and your first instinct is to chase him?"

Kant twisted free, elbowing Hunter. "Get off."

Gabriel’s legs moved in a blur, his head ducked like he could physically outrun the sheer embarrassment radiating off of him. But soon enough he slowed to sluggish walking, catching his breath and glancing back awkwardly.

The two men left behind fell back into step, resuming their way back.

Kant’s fingers twitched uncomfortably as he saw Hunter watching Gabriel with a strange analytical look.

"What?"

"Bloody deja vu," Hunter muttered. He eyed Gabriel’s retreating figure, frowning like something wasn’t adding up. "Did you kidnap him ’cause he reminded you of that wimpy kid?"

Kant stiffened.

Although Gabriel’s and Luke’s temperaments were somewhat similar in nature, Kant had put in a lot of effort not to draw parallels. It helped that visually they were incomparable.

Luke had brown eyes, reddish-brown hair, and a smile with crooked teeth. He had the youth of a farmer’s boy.

Meanwhile, Gabriel was something else entirely. Untouchable. A creature of fantasy that had somehow descended into Kant’s life and—

Wait a damn minute. What was he thinking?

Kant shook his head, chasing away the insanity. Talk about being lovesick. Why was he idolizing the guy? Gabriel was no epitome of grace—he was a raccoon in a beige fur coat. A giggly, fidgety, teasing raccoon, who was somehow too adorable to get annoyed at.

"The hell is up with you?" Hunter kicked snow at Kant’s boots. "One minute I ask you about your kidnapping, and the next you’re grinnin’ like a maniac. Shit, it’s giving me the creeps."

"Then don’t look." Kant moved away from him, keeping an eye on Gabriel. He seemed to be moving too slow for his high energy levels.

. . .

Gabriel staggered onto the gravel of the riverside, huffing and puffing. His legs ached, his ribs protested with every step, and his vision blurred at the edges. He hadn’t even realized how much he was running on fumes until now. Any further, and he would...

Oh, hey. His car.

He fumbled for the handle, yanking it a few times. Locked.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he patted his pockets for the key. Nothing.

A quiet, devastated "Nooooo..." slipped out as he dropped into a crouch, gripping his hair.

Just as he was about to curse his entire existence, his gaze landed on the back wheel.

"Ah... Right..."

Relieved and dumb, he retrieved the key from its hiding spot. His hands were shaking, but he forced them to work, unlocking the door and practically collapsing into the driver’s seat.

For a second, he just sat there, staring blankly at the dashboard. The headache had lifted, but his thoughts had turned floaty and disconnected, like clouds torn apart by a strong wind.

"I can’t drive like this..." He wrapped his fingers around the wheel, exhaling. "Hey, Hale? Are you still around? Please tell me you have a driver’s license..."

Silence. Not even the usual whisper of the otherworldly presence. Maybe the evil spirit was still too offended to come back around.

Which meant Gabriel could take a nap. Honestly, it was the best idea he had gotten today. His arms felt heavy, his head even more so. A few minutes of rest sounded sweet.

He let his fingers slide off the wheel entirely as his body folded like a cheap lawn chair, forehead hitting the steering wheel with a dull thunk.