HUNTER’S POV.
Going to the Red Moon pack had been stupid, and now I was in deadly, black humor. Clad only in trousers and a pair of black suspenders, I took the last drop of my Brandy, staring out the window of my hideout just to be sure everywhere was clear.
I knew I should be anywhere but alone in this dreary room with my bleak thoughts. Dammit! My fist hit the windowsill. Hard. The pain was welcome. I shook my hand, wondering if I had cracked a bone.
Not for the first time, I dared to admit my deepest, most secret feelings—I was scared things could go wrong, and I would not get to see Blair deliver my child.
Of course, I would get out of this alive. There was no point in brooding. I was prepared; I had been ready for a long time; soon, I would take down Mark for good.
I thought ab
