Page 105 of Hunter

MAXIM

There’s so much I want to say, so much swirling around in my head, but right now, I need to focus on Jennifer. I have to. Once she’s gone and everything is laid out in the open, then I’ll turn to Sophia. I’ve given her the space she asked for, but that space is over now. She’s carrying my child. There’s no more pretending, no more living separate lives. We’re in this together. And after everything, I can’t afford to ignore it anymore.

Jennifer fidgets in her chair, shifting uneasily. She takes a slow sip of the water Sophia gave her earlier, her fingers tight around the bottle like she’s trying to ground herself. The tension in the air is thick, and she looks like she’s about to break at any moment.

I lean forward, my voice soft, trying to ease the tension. “I can leave if it’ll make you feel more comfortable. You don’t have to do this with me here. I’m fine waiting outside. I’ll listen through the cameras.”

She looks up at me, her eyes tired, filled with something I can’t read. “No,” she says, shaking her head slowly. “You need to hear this. You deserve to hear it.” Her words hang in the air for a beat before she clears her throat. “Before I say anything, I need to make one thing clear for both of you.” Her gaze flickersto Sophia, then back to me. “I had nothing to do with your kidnapping, Sophia. I swear it.”

Her words hit me like a punch. My chest tightens, but I force myself to stay calm. I want to believe her, but I can’t. Not yet.

“And I had nothing to do with burning your warehouse, Maxim,” she continues, voice hoarse, the weight of her confession pressing down on her shoulders.

My instincts scream in my chest. If she’s lying—if this is just another game—then I won’t let her get away with it. I can’t afford to let my guard down, not with her.

“Then who did it?” I ask, the words sharp and cold. “If it wasn’t you, who the hell was it?”

Jennifer doesn’t flinch. She looks away, staring into the distance like she’s searching for a way to explain the impossible. She’s holding something back. I can feel it.

She exhales slowly, the words heavy in the air when she speaks again. “Almost two years ago, a man came to me. He told me he could get me and my kids out of the hell we were living in with my husband. He offered me freedom, a way out. All I had to do was owe him a favor when the time came.” Her eyes flicker to Sophia. “And I took it. I took it because I was desperate. For my kids. For my life. He promised me I’d never have to go back, and I believed him.”

Her voice cracks, and for the first time, I see something more than just cold calculation in her eyes. It’s regret. Guilt. Fear.

“I sold my soul to the devil that day, and the worst part is, I didn’t care. Not then. I didn’t care about anything but getting away. About being free. I told you and the family he cheated on me and we were working on ourselves,” she begins, her voice steady but heavy with something darker. “But the truth is, I have no idea where he is. I’m not sure if they killed him or not, and honestly, I don’t care. He deserved everything he got.””

Sophia’s silence cuts through the room like a blade. She’s looking at Jennifer, her expression unreadable, but I can see the storm behind her eyes, the years of pain. I know how much this must hurt her—how it must feel to hear the truth, to hear Jennifer admit what she did. It’s a brutal kind of honesty, and yet, I know it’s not enough.

I lean forward in my chair, my eyes narrowing as I study her. “Who came into your life like a guardian angel?”

Her fingers twitch slightly, as if the memory itself weighs her down, impossible to shake. “At first, I had no idea,” she admits, her voice low and strained. “For months, no one came to call in the favor I promised. I thought, maybe, no one ever would.” Her gaze drifts away, unfocused, as if she’s reliving the moment. “But then, almost a year later, a woman showed up at my door. She said she worked for the people responsible for my freedom. She called them the syndicate.” Her tone tightens, the words laced with unease. “She mentioned they were powerful people—people I shouldn’t even think about crossing.” Her voice hardens, anger and fear bleeding through as she continues. “She told me they’d be in touch, that they’d contact me with my orders. When I asked what they wanted from me, what I had to do, she just smiled, like it was already decided, and said, ‘You belong to us now.’ Then, she left.”

Her words catch me off guard. The syndicate? I’ve never heard of them. And that’s what unsettles me most. I’ve spent years knowing every player in this game, every threat that could come my way. But this name—it’s a blank slate, an unknown variable. I turn it over in my mind, trying to see if I remember something, but I don’t. If they’ve stayed off my radar, it means they’re either extremely careful or far more powerful than they appear. Both possibilities sit uncomfortably with me.

“I had no idea who you were until they gave me my first order,” she begins, her voice unsteady but resolute. “They toldme to follow you, to track your every move and report back to them. I didn’t think much of it at first. But that night, curiosity got the better of me. I searched your name online, trying to piece together who you were.” She pauses, swallowing hard. “That’s when I saw it—your father’s name. And then his picture.” Her voice falters, and she looks down, as though the words are too heavy to say while meeting my gaze. “It was like a punch to the gut. A shock to my system. I couldn’t breathe when I realized who he was.” She looks at me, her eyes distant and clouded with memories. “My mom never told me the name of my real father,” she says quietly, her voice tinged with emotion. “But his face…” She trails off, exhaling a shaky breath. “His face was engraved in my mind, burned there from the night I followed them to that hotel. It was something I could never forget, no matter how hard I tried.”

Her gaze shifts to the table, as if gathering the strength to continue. “At first, I was confused," she admits, her voice tight with a mix of frustration and regret. "Why would they have me tailing my half-brother? It didn’t make any sense. But then..." She pauses, her jaw tightening as her gaze hardens. "Then I got angry at you." She stands, her body trembling with the force of her words. “You had everything, everything I thought should’ve been mine. I had nothing, Maxim. I had nothing but pain and resentment. You—you had everything I ever wanted.”

I see the truth in her eyes now, the rawness of her emotions. She’s not just angry at me; she’s angry at herself, angry at a life she feels she didn’t deserve.

“I know it sounds stupid,” she whispers, her voice breaking. “Because we weren’t rich like you. I get it. But my parents…they gave us everything too. They gave us what they could. But at that moment, all I saw was you—how you had it all, everything I never could. And I hated you for it. I hated you because you didn’t deserve it. I did. And in that hate, I…I lost myself.”

Her voice is barely a whisper now, and I can see the tears starting to form, but she doesn’t let them fall. Instead, she looks directly at Sophia, her face crumpling with the weight of everything. “I wanted to be you. I wanted to take what was yours because I was so fucking angry. I thought it was rightfully mine. And now…now I’ve lost everything. My family. My dignity. My soul. And it’s my fault.”

Sophia doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. I can feel the tension thickening in the air, but I don’t know what to say. What can I say? This isn’t about me. This isn’t about the syndicate. It’s about Jennifer, about how she’s twisted herself into someone she never wanted to be, all because of the anger that poisoned her heart.

The weight of the moment feels unbearable, and I can’t shake the tension in my chest as I listen to Jennifer. This whole situation is spiraling into chaos, and her confession isn’t making it any easier to understand. It’s like a twisted maze of lies and regret, and I’m struggling to find a way out.

But I know this—it doesn’t make sense. How could it? The betrayal. The manipulation. The way she tied us all together with the damn syndicate.

“I’m not sure how to feel about this, Jennifer. This whole situation is fucked up,” I mutter, barely keeping my voice steady. My hand grips the edge of my chair, knuckles turning white as I try to hold myself back. I want to lash out, grab her by the collar, and demand every last detail, but instead, I clench my fists, forcing myself to stay calm.

Her eyes flicker with shame, and she looks at the floor, as though trying to hide from the weight of her own actions.

“From then on, I put my own little twists on their orders,” she says, her voice trembling. “It was my idea to leave you those little notes to infiltrate you from the inside. I’m not proud of how I managed that, but it gave me a way to dig deeper into yourorganization, to leave an impression. And when I hit a wall, I used Elena to bulldoze through the rest of it.”

Her words are like poison in my veins, and my jaw clenches tight. I can’t help the way the anger surges in me, threatening to spill over.

“I’m losing my patience, Jennifer. Tell me something that doesn’t make me want to grab my gun and end you right here and now.”

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