Page 122 of The Hunt

The maid shook her head. “As far as I know, all the rooms in the west wing are empty right now,” she said. “The only reason I even went in today was to dust things, just to make sure it doesn’t build up too much. I’m sure you know what these old buildings can be like.”

“Sure do.” Rhett waved a casual hand. “I must’ve misheard JJ. Anyway, I’ll let you go. Have a good night.”

“Thank you, sir.” The maid hesitated, glancing at the foyer behind her. “Should I just leave the light on for you? In case you want to wait for your friend. He could still be on his way over here.”

“Good idea.” Rhett nodded slowly. “I’ll wait for him.”

He waited on the threshold until the maid was a safe distance away, and then he called out to me. “It’s safe. We can go in.”

We trudged inside, and my chest tightened as my gaze swept over the towering spiral staircase ahead of us. It looked exactly how I remembered.

“It hasn’t changed in here at all,” I murmured.

“I guess they don’t see any point in renovating it, seeing as hardly any guests stay here,” he replied, holding onto my arm as we began our ascent. “The north wing got redone last year, and the east a few years before that.”

“Ah, right.” We reached the next floor, and my brows rose as I peered down the hall. “Holy shit. The more I see, the more I remember. It’s so weird.”

“Yeah, it’s funny how our memories work sometimes.”

I pointed ahead. “My room was right there. On the left, fourth door down.”

“Should we sleep in there?”

I lifted my shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “Sure, why not?”

When we arrived at the door, Rhett twisted the knob and pushed it open. The room beyond was just as I remembered. Dark wooden furniture filled the space, and through the windows, I could see a small horseshoe bay glinting beneath the stars.

Rhett stepped inside first, scanning the room before motioning for me to enter. Once I was in, he turned and locked the door behind us. “Just in case,” he muttered.

He pulled the curtains closed and moved toward the adjoining bathroom, pushing the door open to reveal a surprisingly modern space compared to the rest of the west wing—white tiles, gleaming fixtures, and a glass-enclosed shower. “Looks like this part got an upgrade, at least,” he said.

I followed him in, suddenly registering that my body was aching with exhaustion. My reflection in the mirror caught my eye, and I grimaced. Blood streaked my cheeks, dirt smudged my neck, and my hair hung in damp tangles. “God, I look like I’ve been dragged straight through hell.”

“You have,” Rhett said quietly, stepping behind me. His eyes met mine in the mirror. “You can shower first. I’ll keep watch.”

I turned, shaking my head. “No. It’ll be faster if we just—” I hesitated, cheeks warming as my gaze flicked to the shower and back to him. “We’ll just do it together. The door’s locked anyway, and like you said… no one ever comes here at this time of year.”

His brows lifted slightly, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he slipped out of his jacket and reached for the hem of his shirt. He pulled it off in one smooth motion, revealing the sharp lines of muscle crisscrossed with scars and tattoos.

I swallowed hard and turned toward the shower, my fingers fumbling with the hem of my sweatshirt.

Rhett finished undressing, turned the shower on, and stepped in, water slicking down his skin almost instantly, highlighting every ridge of muscle.

For a moment, he stood there under the spray, head tilted back, eyes closed. Then his gaze dropped to me, intense as ever, and his lips curved into a smirk.

“Get in here, princess.”

28

Rhett

I inhaled sharplyas I watched Everly step into the shower after me. As soon as the hot water hit her, she let out a satisfied moan and tipped her head back, letting it cascade over her hair. Her skin was still covered in a mix of JJ’s blood and grime from our trek through the woods and tunnel, but that didn’t detract from her beauty. Nothing ever could.

Jesus, Ev.I dragged my gaze over her naked body, wondering how I got so lucky. She was so fucking gorgeous, her long hair clinging to wet skin, her body a masterpiece of curves and soft, glistening lines just begging to be traced. Pure fucking art.

Perfect.

The night I met her, I knew my obsession with her would grow, and it had, consuming me until the thought of losing her made me want to fucking die.