Page 14 of Hunter

“She is mine.” My voice is a growl, low and deadly.

Thunder rumbles in the distance like a warning. I smile wickedly, embracing the challenge.

Bring it on.

My phone rings, shattering the moment. I growl, frustrated. Can’t they just leave me alone for five fucking minutes?

Luca’s name flashes on the screen. My heart skips a beat. Did something happen to Sophia?

I answer on the second ring, my pulse thundering in my ears.

“She’s awake again.”

The words hit me like a jolt of electricity, stirring a mix of relief, anticipation, and fear I can’t quite place.

“I’ll be right there.” I hang up, throwing the phone onto the passenger seat as I start the engine. I drive toward her, hoping, praying the hatred in her eyes is gone, that what I saw before wasn’t aimed at me but through me.

I hope it’s gone. I really fucking hope it is. Because if it’s not…I don’t know what I’ll do.

With a deep exhale, I open the door. My gaze immediately locks on Sophia sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard, legs stretched out. Her right leg where she was shot is hidden beneath the blanket, as though she’s trying to pretend it’s not there—trying to avoid the reminder of what happened. She stares at the wall absentmindedly, the bruises and cuts now more visible. Fury rises within me, but I tamp it down. This isn’t the time, not the place.

“I’m not sure how long she’s been awake.” Luca’s voice is a whisper, careful not to disturb her. “I came in to check on her, and she was like this.”

I glance at him, surprise flickering across my face. His eyes are shadowed with deep purple bags from lack of sleep. His tie hangs loose around his neck, and his knuckles are bruised and swollen.

The guilt he carries for what happened to Sophia weighs heavy on him. We talked about it the other day. He’s relentless in his pursuit of the bastard who did this to her. He sent Cecilia and his daughter back to New York with heavy protection. He wouldn’t be able to handle it if something happened to them. It was the right decision, because getting to know Cecilia these past few days—her big mouth and strong personality—she would’ve gotten herself into trouble if she stayed.

As much as I’m grateful for everything he’s done, I need to be alone with Sophia. I need to figure out how to reach her, and him being here won’t help.

“Go,” I say, the word more of a plea than an order. He nods, understanding in his eyes, before patting my shoulder and leaving the room.

I take a moment to breathe, pushing down any lingering anger and steadying myself before facing her.

“Sophia?” My voice is soft as I move slowly, not wanting to startle her. She doesn’t move, doesn’t acknowledge me. I call her name again. Nothing. It’s as though she’s so lost in her own mind, she doesn’t even hear me.

I take a chair from the other side of the room, dragging it over to sit in front of her. Now, I’m at eye level with her. My heart aches as I see the dullness in her eyes, eyes that once shone with fire and love.

“Sophia?” I repeat her name, hoping this time, I’ll reach her. I lift my hand, almost touching her face, but I stop halfway as her eyes finally meet mine.

“Don’t touch me,” she says, her voice cracking, holding back tears.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. I try again. “Talk to me.”

The words are out before I realize how poorly chosen they are.

“You really want to know, Maxim?” She spits my name through gritted teeth, her fist clenched as she leans forward. Her words hit me like bullets, each one sinking deeper. “While you were busy breaking your promise to keep me safe, I was drugged, thrown into a fucking dungeon, beaten…and—” She stops, her hand covering her face as her body trembles. I clutch the chair, dreading what she’ll say next.

“And molested,” she says the last word, and a flood of tears I’ve been holding back finally breaks free, rushing down my face like a torrential downpour. Her head snaps up, her eyes fiery, tears streaming down her face. “I was fucking molested. Things were done to me against my will.” She pauses, as if considering something. “Oh, and how could I forget? I was shot—twice.” She slaps her palm against her forehead, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Silly me.”

My chest caves in. Numbness spreads through me, and the world feels eerily quiet.

She chuckles without humor. “Don’t worry, Maxim. I don’t blame you. I’m the one at fault.”

Her words slap me harder than when she said she hated me. How can she think she’s to blame for this?

“I knew getting involved with you would only lead to pain and suffering, but I fell for you anyway, despite all the warnings.” She points to herself, then to me, repeating the gesture a few times. “Whatever the fuck we had? It’s over. I can’t be with you.” She leans back against the headboard, closing her eyes, her body trembling as silent sobs wrack through her.

She’s broken. I broke her.

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