Page 70 of Hunted By Valentine

It’s not until I unlock it and am greeted by my apps that I realize the extent of my mistake. In my eagerness to punish Michael for what he did to Ruby, I forgot all about the damn app that distorts my voice. That means he has listened to my real voice all night.

I curse under my breath and slam my hand into the steering wheel. What the hell! None of this makes sense. Never before have I made such a rookie mistake.

In my role as a teacher, I’ve only ever interacted with Michael Simmons twice, so I don’t think it really matters. Especially not after tonight. Right now, I’m pretty sure he’s too scared to even consider rebelling against me.

After the first hour of the drive back to the city, I finally cave and do what I’ve tried so hard not to do. With one hand, I type out the text.

Me: I need to see you, Pet.

Chapter 27

The Prey

Grogginess clings to me like a second skin as I stir, the soft glow of my phone piercing the darkness. My hand fumbles for it, heavy with sleep. The screen illuminates with a text.

Valentine: I need to see you, Pet.

I read the words over and over, a smile spreading across my face.

Since I woke up in Jack’s apartment a few days ago, there have been very few moments where I haven’t thought about Valentine—about missing class, and… missing him. But I never considered contacting him. I’m not sure why, maybe because I haven’t wanted to link what we did in the bar’s bathroom with Michael’s attack.

Rationally, I know the two events are as interlinked as can be. Yet, I also want to deny it with every fiber of my being. Because where one brought me pleasure beyond belief—not just the kind that comes with a release, but something deeper, something more potent—the other took me away from Valentine.

It’s not even the pain that bothers me. Not seeing him feels like the worst kind of punishment, which is beyond cruel.

I’m wide awake now, every nerve electrified by the thought of him wanting—no,needing—to see me. Ignoring the pain from Michael’s brutal attack, I swing my legs off the side of the bed in Jack’s spare room and get dressed in the brand new clothes Carolina brought me earlier tonight.

After her meeting with Valentine, she stopped by. To say it was hard not to pump her for information about him is the world’s biggest understatement.

As I pull the sweater over my head, the fabric brushes against the stitches in my scalp, eliciting a sharp gasp. Each movement sends a jolt of pain through my body, but there’s no time to dwell on the pain.

Slipping on my ankle boots, the cold leather sends a shiver up my spine. My heart races, anticipation building with every passing second.

I stand, wincing as the pain shoots through me, but I refuse to let it hold me back. Valentine is waiting, and nothing will keep me from him. With a deep breath, I steel myself for the encounter that awaits.

My fingers tremble as I reply to his message, the words barely enough to convey the urgency I feel.

Me: I need to see you, too. Now?

While I wait for Valentine’s reply, I grab some of the cash I know Jack hides in the ice tray in his freezer. I don’t take a lot, a few hundred bucks at most. Since Carolina also brought me my things, I have my purse and credit cards. Just not cash, and I’ll need some for a cab to get to wherever Valentine lives.

Just as I slip my coat on, letting the leather embrace me, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. The address Valentine has sent me is in Brooklyn. Okay, a cab it is. After getting my handbag, I sling it over my shoulder, and then I tiptoe out of Jack’s apartment, my steps barely audible as I slip out.

Reaching the lobby, I’m greeted by the doorman. “Good morning Miss,” he says, gesturing his head.

“Hi,” I reply, curtly.

He looks outside before turning his attention back on me. “Umm…are you going outside now? I could call you a car, or—”

Forcing a smile, I interrupt him. “No, thank you. I’m fine. I’m just going home.”

He pales. “Does Mr. Jack know?”

This is exactly why I don’t want him to call me a car. These people are loyal to my brother, and I don’t want him to know where I’m going. “Sure,” I lie. “If you want to call him, I’ll wait here.”

The man gives me a relieved smile, and I feel bad for lying to him. Yet not bad enough not to run the moment he turns his back on me. Each step hurts, but I don’t care. I don’t slow down until I’ve put enough distance between us.

By now, I’m breathing heavily, and every inch of my body aches. The biting wind outside claws at my face, sending a shiver down my spine. The deserted streets are coated in a layer of frost, the city’s heartbeat nearly silent beneath the January chill.

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