Chapter 4
1362 Words
Sophie’s POV
The moment his mouth left mine, I shoved against his chest with every ounce of strength I possessed, yet the effort accomplished nothing except sending a sharp ache through my arms because Hunter Reynolds felt less like a living man and more like a mountain carved from stone and fury that refused to move for anyone.
My breathing came fast and uneven as I glared at him with all the hatred burning inside me, because no matter how many times he saved me from other monsters, I could not erase the memory of yellow eyes watching my sister die while an entire city celebrated her suffering beneath a blood-red moon.
Hunter took a slow step backward, creating a small distance between us, though the cabin suddenly felt too small to contain the overwhelming presence that seemed to follow him everywhere like a living shadow determined to suffocate everything in its path.
His crimson eyes remained fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle, and I hated the fact that my pulse reacted whenever he looked at me because I refused to allow my body to betray the promises my heart had made years ago.
“You should eat,” he said quietly while gesturing toward the wooden table standing near the fireplace where a simple meal waited untouched beside a clay cup filled with clean water.
I laughed bitterly despite the exhaustion dragging at every muscle in my body because the sight of food seemed almost ridiculous after everything that had happened within the cursed walls of Hablet only hours earlier.
“You carry me away like stolen property and now you expect me to sit down and enjoy dinner with you like we are friends sharing a peaceful evening together.”
A flicker of something crossed his face before disappearing so quickly that I almost convinced myself I had imagined it entirely.
“I expect you to survive.”
The answer should not have affected me as strongly as it did, yet those four words settled heavily inside my chest because nobody had spoken about my survival as though it mattered since the day my city fell beneath werewolf claws.
I immediately crushed the thought before it could grow roots because weakness often arrived disguised as gratitude and I could not afford either one around a male who openly called me his mate.
Silence stretched between us while the fire crackled softly within the stone hearth, casting dancing shadows across the cabin walls and painting Hunter's scarred features in shades of gold and darkness that made him appear strangely ancient.
My eyes drifted toward the window where moonlight spilled through the glass like liquid silver, and for a brief moment I imagined running into the forest despite the dangers waiting beyond the trees because freedom still felt preferable to captivity no matter how comfortable the cage appeared.
Hunter seemed to sense exactly where my thoughts had gone because his jaw tightened visibly before he folded his powerful arms across his chest.
“If you are planning another escape, at least wait until morning when you can see the cliffs, rivers, and predators that will try to kill you before breakfast.”
The sarcastic response sitting on my tongue vanished when I realized he was completely serious about the warning.
“You really think I cannot survive without you.”
“I think the forest has buried stronger people than either of us.”
Frustration surged through me because part of me knew he was right, yet hearing him say it felt dangerously close to admitting that I needed him for anything at all.
My gaze dropped briefly toward the scars covering his bare torso, and despite myself I noticed how many there were, because no man collected wounds like that without spending years fighting battles most people would never survive.
Each scar represented bloodshed, violence, and death, yet some small voice deep inside me wondered how many had been earned protecting others instead of hunting them.
The possibility irritated me more than it should have.
“You are staring.”
The low amusement in his voice made heat rush into my face, and I immediately looked away before he could see how embarrassed the accusation had made me.
“I was wondering how many people you murdered to collect all those scars.”
Hunter's expression remained unreadable for several long seconds before he slowly lowered himself into a chair beside the table.
“Enough to keep breathing.”
The answer carried a weight that surprised me because it sounded less like pride and more like exhaustion.
For the first time since entering the cabin, I noticed how tired he looked beneath all the power and intimidation, because dark shadows lingered beneath his eyes and several fresh wounds still stained his skin with drying blood from the battle in the arena.
A reasonable person would have felt sympathy.
Unfortunately for him, I was not feeling particularly reasonable.
“Good,” I replied coldly while crossing my arms. “I hope every scar hurts.”
Instead of becoming angry, Hunter released a quiet laugh that somehow sounded sadder than any shout could have managed.
“That makes two of us.”
The unexpected response stole the next insult directly from my mouth.
Before I could recover, Hunter stood and disappeared through a doorway near the back of the cabin, leaving me alone beside the fire with my confusion and growing frustration.
Minutes passed before curiosity finally overcame caution.
I hated curiosity.
Curiosity had a habit of leading people toward truths they were not prepared to face.
Slowly, I approached the table and stared at the meal waiting there because hunger had become impossible to ignore after everything my body had endured throughout the day.
The food smelled warm and real, which only made the situation feel more confusing because monsters were not supposed to prepare meals for frightened girls they dragged out of arenas.
Eventually my stomach won the argument.
I sat down carefully and took a cautious bite while silently promising myself that accepting food did not mean accepting anything else from Hunter Reynolds.
The first mouthful nearly made me cry.
Not because the meal was extraordinary but because it tasted normal, and normal had become such a distant memory that I almost forgot what it felt like.
For a few precious moments, I remembered evenings with my sister before the wolves came, when laughter echoed through small rooms and the future seemed wide open instead of drenched in blood.
Pain tightened around my heart immediately afterward.
I missed her so much that sometimes breathing felt like punishment.
A floorboard creaked behind me.
I looked up to find Hunter standing in the doorway once again, though this time he carried a folded dark green dress in one hand.
Without speaking, he placed it carefully on the table beside me.
“You need something warmer than those torn rags.”
My fingers brushed the fabric cautiously.
The dress looked simple, practical, and surprisingly beautiful.
“Why are you doing this?”
The question escaped before I could stop it.
Hunter remained silent for several seconds while his red eyes held mine across the firelit room.
When he finally answered, his voice sounded rougher than before.
“Because when I saw you tied to those posts, something inside me broke.”
The honesty caught me completely off guard.
No teasing followed.
No possessive remarks followed.
Only silence remained between us while those words settled heavily into the space separating hate from understanding.
I did not know what frightened me more, the possibility that he was lying or the possibility that he was telling the truth.
For the first time since entering the cabin, neither of us spoke.
The fire continued burning softly.
The moon continued shining beyond the window.
And somewhere deep inside my chest, beneath the grief, rage, and fear that had defined my existence for years, the smallest crack appeared in the walls surrounding my heart.
I hated that crack immediately.
Yet no matter how much I hated it, I could not pretend it was not there.
- Writer
