Chapter Nine — Turning the Hunt
435 Words
The fire had burned low, the only light in the room the faint glow of embers and the distant flash of lightning outside.
The smell of gunpowder clung to the air, mingling with cedar and the sharp scent of rain.
Adrian paced in front of the shattered window, his black shirt streaked with blood — not his, I realized with relief. His movements were taut, controlled, but I could feel the storm building inside him.
“They sent a scout team,” he said finally. “Just to test us. Next time, they’ll come with an army.”
“So… what do we do?” My voice was steady, but my hands still trembled from the fight.
He stopped pacing and looked at me, really looked at me. “We stop running.”
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Adrian crossed to the sideboard again, but this time he pulled out a heavy leather folder. Inside were maps, photographs, and a list of names written in his sharp, deliberate handwriting.
“These are the ones pulling the strings,” he said, spreading the pages across the table. “Vincent is one of them — but he’s not the top. The man who gave the order on your father… he’s still out there. And he wants you dead.”
I stared at the faces — men in expensive suits, laughing over champagne, shaking hands at charity galas. They looked like anyone you might pass on the street. That made it worse.
“You’re saying we go after them,” I said.
“I’m saying we end it,” he replied, his voice low, decisive. “If they think they’re the hunters, they won’t see us coming. I know where they’ll be in forty-eight hours. And if I’m right…” He leaned over the table, his shadow falling across mine. “…we take them all out in one strike.”
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The air between us shifted, electric, as if the danger itself had wound us tighter.
“This is crazy,” I whispered.
“So was falling for me,” he said, a faint, wicked smile playing on his lips. “And you did that anyway.”
He reached for me, his hand curling around the back of my neck, drawing me in until our foreheads touched. “If you stay, you’re in this. No halfway. No turning back.”
My pulse thundered. “Then I’m in.”
The smile faded, replaced by something darker. “Good. Because after this…” His lips brushed mine. “…we either walk away free… or we don’t walk away at all.”
TO BE CONTINUED
- Writer
