Page 98 of Vicious Luna

“No, you’ve done more than enough,” I cut in, dropping my arms to my sides and glancing back toward the way I came from. “Just head back that way to the access road. I’ve cleared it with the others, they’re expecting you and will get you outta here safely.”

He nods stiffly, clutching the straps of his backpack tighter. “You gonna be okay in there?”

“Don’t worry about me,” I chuckle halfheartedly, tipping my head. “Just get going.”

He chews on his lip, gaze darting to the cabin, then back to me. “Alright, see you soon,” he breathes, pivoting to head toward the access road.

My chest squeezes painfully as he starts to walk away. “Hey Matty?” I call after him, and he pauses to glance back. “Thank you,” I rasp, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “For everything.”

His lips curve into a proud smile and he nods, turning back to continue his trek to safety.

I wait for him to gain some distance, then resume my path toward the cabin, carefully creeping up to the treeline before making a run for the back of the house. I regulate my breathing as I press my back against the wall, triple-checking the gun in my waistband as I slink along toward the patio,watching and listening for any signs of the soldiers inside. As I peek through the windows, I find the kitchen and living room vacant, sneaking over to the patio doors that Matty left unlocked for me and slipping inside.

Those enhanced shifter senses really come in handy on a job like this. I can hear the dull roar of conversation on the second level and the thump of footsteps overhead, but the main level is clear. I sneak through the open concept living space on silent feet, slinking into the hall and carefully making my way toward the office at the front of the house.

Luck must be on my side, because I don’t run into anyone on my way there. I slide the handgun out of my waistband as I approach the door to the office, flicking off the safety and holding it at the ready. The door’s ajar, and I slide along the wall and peek through the gap, catching sight of the man I’m looking for sitting behind the desk. In a blink, I push through the door and aim the gun at his head.

“Hands where I can see them,” I snap as I kick the door closed.

The man who raised me looks up and slowly lifts his hands, his impassable expression not betraying even a hint of surprise at seeing me here.

“Cameron,” he deadpans.

“Jonathan.”

43

The leather of his desk chair creaks as Jonathan Knox leans back with his hands in the air, stoic and unshakeable as ever. If I didn’t actually know him, I’d wonder if this was all planned, but the man I used to call my father never allows his expression to give away a thing. He’s always said that emotional reactions are a sign of weakness.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” he states calmly, holding my stare.

I make a scoffing sound in my throat. “Lucky for me, right?”

“I somehow doubt it was all luck.” He lifts his chin arrogantly, cocking a brow. “So, are you here to kill me?”

“I just want to talk,” I say as I step closer while keeping the gun trained on him.

His gaze flickers down to the gleam of the barrel. “So put that away and let’s talk, then.”

"Sure, once you put yours on the table,” I reply coolly, nodding my head toward his left-sided desk drawers.

He sighs like he’s annoyed, lowering his hands so he can open up the top drawer and retrieve his firearm from inside. I watch his every move like a hawk, keeping my finger on thetrigger of my own gun as he slides his onto the surface. His compliance with my directive doesn’t surprise me, though. He knows damn well I have quick reflexes and perfect aim.He taught me well.

“Give me the clip,” I direct.

He lifts the gun, thumbing the button to release the magazine before tossing it in my direction. “Happy?” he asks as it clatters against the hardwood floor at my feet.

“And the bullet in the chamber.”

The muscle in his jaw feathers as he pulls back the slide, releasing the round and sending it rolling across the desk. Then he sets the Glock down once more, pinning me with a hard stare.

I lower my own weapon, my finger still on the trigger as I sidestep and ease down onto the seat across from him. As soon as I do, I’m hit with a haunting sense of familiarity at the two of us being in this exact position so many times before. Of course, I wasn’t threatening him at gunpoint back then. A lot has changed since I last sat in this chair to discuss Guild business.

“So, what’s this about?” Jonathan asks with a patronizing lilt to his tone.

I feel my inner beast push forward in response. “I think you know,” I grind out, shifting my free hand to the armrest and drumming my fingers against the wood.

His eyes flicker down to track the movement, then ping back up to my own. “Nervous?”

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