Page 64 of Echoes of Obsession

“I don’t know why I didn’t think about it when you were at the house,” he says, dismounting his hog. “Hunter was over at the house so often that he was like my own son.”

“I know, Pops. His actions are a surprise to me, too.”

“It’s not that, son,” he says. “I didn’t just think he was like my son, I treated him like one, too. Even gave him chores and allowance.”

“I remember,” I say, still not following.

We’re currently outside the Cage. I’m not expecting Hunter to leave for several more hours, but I don’t plan to leave my spot unless it’s to follow him to my woman. I’ve already placed the magnetic tracker under his vehicle, but he could always switch cars after leaving here. I can’t take that chance.

“Damnit, Rhett. Think.”

“Pops, my mind isn’t in the right place for mind games right now,” I admit.

Sighing, he reaches for my chest and pulls out my cross necklace that was tucked beneath my shirt.

“What was my greatest fear?” he asks, holding the cross in his hands.

“Losing your kids,” I answer, everything clicking into place. “Holy fuck, Pops. I completely forgot that you gave Hunter a necklace, too.”

“One he doesn’t take off,” he smiles. “I know for a fact he doesn’t because I saw it on him last month when he stopped by to give your Ma a birthday gift. Plus, I drilled it into all of your skulls to never take the damn necklace off.”

“We had ours updated,” I remind him. “We didn’t do the same for Hunters. Can you still track him?”

“You didn’t need the damn chips updated,” he grumps. “That was just Knox wanting to play with electronics.”

“So, you can track him?”

“Better than that,” he smiles widely. “I can tell you exactly where he’s been over the past three months. Every stop he made and for how long he made it.”

I grab Pops and hug him tightly.

“Old bones,” he laughs. “Loosen your vice grip, or they will grind to dust. Your Ma would be so mad.”

“Can’t have that,” I say, releasing the old man. “I fucking love you, Pops.”

“Go on back to the clubhouse,” he laughs. “Knox has already started shifting through the stored information on my old laptop and should have something for you when you get there. I’m going to go have a drink. Bring my new daughter home, son. Or you’re grounded.”

“You got it, Pops,” I say, straddling my own hog and heading back to Knox.

***Amara***

I need my meds in a bad way. I can’t seem to focus on anything with my head pounding as if it’s letting me know that it’s had enough electrical shocks for the day. My body feels like it’s shutting down, each seizure taking more out of me than thelast. I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. Even with my emergency nose spray, I don’t think it would help.

I lie on the cold, hard floor, trying to muster the strength to move. Every muscle aches and my mind feels like it’s wrapped in fog. I can barely keep my eyes open, but I know I can’t afford to fall asleep again. Not here. Not now.

Time seems to stretch endlessly. Minutes feel like hours, and the silence is deafening. I force myself to sit up, leaning against the wall for support. I try to focus on my breathing, to calm the storm raging inside my head, but it’s no use. My thoughts keep drifting back to Ghost, wondering if he’s looking for me. Wondering if he’s found any clues.

“Hang in there, Snow,” I whisper to myself, my voice barely audible. “He’s coming for you. He’ll find you.”

But the words feel hollow. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on to that hope. My body is betraying me, and without immediate medical intervention, it’s only a matter of time before the next seizure hits. And it could very well be my last one.

I close my eyes, trying to block out the pain and the fear. I think of Ghost, of the life we were building together. I think of my daughter growing up without me. I have to survive this. I have to get back to them. But the darkness is closing in, and I can feel myself slipping away.

I don’t know how much longer I can fight.

As I sit here, struggling to stay conscious, I hear footsteps approaching. My heart leaps into my throat, a mixture of hope and dread. The door creaks open, and I force myself to lift my head.

Hunter stands there, his eyes cold and calculating. He looks me over, a smirk playing on his lips.

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