Page 86 of Hunted By Valentine

To my surprise and dismay, the revelation barely has an impact on him. He cocks an eyebrow and folds his arms over his chest. “And who am I?”

“The H-Hunter,” I stammer. “You’re him.”

Valentine’s expression morphs from a taunting smirk into cold and detached amusement. “Is that so?” He moves closer, not stopping until the barrel of the revolver digs into his chest. “What makes you say that? Was it my little game at the cabin that gave it away?”

I shake my head. “No. I’ve, ahh, known for longer.” At my admission, he lets out an audible sigh. “Since you made me kneel under your desk in your office,” I clarify.

Although I don’t know why it feels important that he knows how long I’ve known.

“I saw the tattoo on your wrist from under the desk. I’ve known since then.”

He opens his mouth, and I feel a sense of pride, of accomplishment, as no words come out. Feeling empowered, I straighten my back and spin the revolver around, offering him the handle.

“Take it,” I say, my voice stronger now. “I’m not going to hurt you, Valentine. Unlike you, I don’t play games with people’s lives. So you’re safe.”

He looks almost contrite as he takes the weapon.

Another sob builds inside me, and I feel my heart shatter as I look at him.

All those years ago, when Michael bought me, I swore I’d never allow my heart to be broken again. What a sick joke my life is. Not only am I in love with the notorious Hunter, it’s worse than unrequited love.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head as treacherous thoughts swirl in my mind. All of them center around the decisions I’ve made with Valentine. I hear Jack’s warning and remember shrugging them off. I see myself kneeling under that damn desk, and not telling anyone the identity of the Hunter. When Michael was beating the shit out of me, I never told him who bit me.

Then my brain flicks forward, showing me how I got out of bed, and left Jack’s safe apartment and walked the streets of New York alone at night, all to get to Valentine. I willingly put myself in harm’s way for him, for a man that made me put a gun to my head.

“You’re a piece of shit,” I snarl, infusing every single ounce of anger I feel into my tone. “I protected you from Michael. I defended you to Jack, and I…” Trailing off, I shake my head.

There’s no point in saying any of this. He clearly doesn’t care, and maybe that’s the realization that causes me to continue.

“I love you, Valentine. I’m in love with you. W-why isn’t that enough?”

His dark eyes become colder at my words. “I needed to know your trust is real,” he says. There’s a finality in his tone that tells me he considers this the end of this discussion. But it isn’t, not to me.

I don’t know what hurts most; that he isn’t even acknowledging my declaration of love, or that he’s playing with me.

“Why?” I demand.

“Because we weren’t alone at the cabin. Michael followed us there.”

“Okay…” I trail off, unsure why that’s an issue. Apart from not wanting him to ever know about me and Valentine, I don’t see the problem. “It’s inconvenient, but is it really that big a deal?”

Valentine runs a hand down his face and exhales audibly. “I’ve had some business with him in the past.”

“Business?” I echo. Then I finally get it. “He’s hired the Hunter… I mean you, in the past.”

The corners of Valentine’s lips twist into a cold semblance of a smile. But there’s something else there, something that looks remarkably like guilt in his eyes. “You’re right. He had a problem, and hired me to make it go away.”

I get the distinct feeling that there’s something he isn’t telling me. But now isn’t the time to dissect whatever happened whenever Michael hired him to kill someone.

“Fuck.” I don’t know if I speak the word out loud or only think it, all I know is the panic coursing through my veins like a cold, unforgiving poison.

Michael can’t know about Valentine, he just can’t. My husband’s connections… his brother… their extracurriculars… all the things I do my best never to consider resurface, making my stomach churn and I retch.

“H-he can’t know about you.” This time I know I’m speaking the words. “Michael is—” Biting the inside of my cheek, I cut myself off.

This has to be the living embodiment of damned if you do, damned if you don’t. If I tell Valentine what Michael is really capable of… well, I can’t do that. But I also can’t let Michael walk around unscathed if he knows Valentine’s true identity.

“He’ll kill you,” I whisper, not completely sure which one of them I’m talking about.

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