Page 2 of Hunter

Wait…

The realization hits me like a gut punch. Son of a bitch orchestrated all of this? Almost destroying me a few years ago wasn’t enough for him? He had to get his men to kidnap andtorture me? For what? He had access to Maxim. He didn’t need to involve me in this mess.

He drapes what I assume is his jacket over me, lifts my chair, removes my blindfold, and cuts the ropes around my arms and legs. I raise my eyebrows at him, a thousand questions racing through my mind. He raises both arms in an “I come in peace” gesture.

“Before I remove the tape, please understand this is not what it looks like…” That’s all he gets to say before someone grabs him from behind and presses a knife to his neck. He smiles and mouths, “Showtime.” He has some serious fucking issues.

Luca elbows his attacker, sending the knife clattering to the floor. In a flash, he turns, blood splattering as his punch connects. I seize the opportunity to rip the tape off my mouth and sprint as fast as possible. “Sophia, stop!” Luca shouts after me, but I don’t. I’m not stupid. I run, unsure of where the hell I’m going. The corridor is dark and twists in every direction, making it impossible to keep track of my path. My lungs feel like they’re on fire, but I can’t stop—I won’t stop.

I make a left turn, stopping in my tracks when I see a man running toward me. Fuck. I don’t have anything to defend myself with. My heart pounds louder than my footsteps. I glance around frantically, my pulse racing as I search for something—anything—I can use as a weapon. My eyes land on the floor, and my breath catches. A body lies crumpled in a pool of blood, motionless and eerily silent.

Next to him, a gun glints under the dim light, smeared with crimson. My stomach twists, but I can’t let myself hesitate. Survival overrides the wave of nausea threatening to take over.

I bend down and grab it, quickly checking the chamber. Three bullets left. I let out a relieved breath. Steadying myself, I aim as the man closes in. When he’s close enough, I pull the trigger. The force of the recoil sends my body backward. If mydad was here, he’d complain I didn’t have the right footing. He used to say that every time we went out shooting. The man screams, collapsing to the ground in pain. I use his fetal position to my advantage, running up to him and smashing the back of the gun against his head. I can’t let him come after me or call for backup.

I bend down to check for a phone, feeling a metallic square in his pocket. A breath of relief escapes me. “Yes. Thank God for everyone carrying phones nowadays.”

I waste no more time. I run for a few more minutes before I reach a metal door, light streaming through the bottom. This has to be the exit. I pray it is. Holding my breath, I grab the knob, twist it, and pull the door open. A shuddering breath escapes me as sunlight hits my face. But then, I hear footsteps heading my way, ruining the brief moment of relief. My body reacts on instinct, and I sprint into the alleyway, not stopping until I’m far from that place.

When I finally feel safe and no one is around, I grab the phone and dial Maxim’s number. I wish I didn’t have to call him. It’s his fucking fault I’m in this mess. But who else am I supposed to call? I can’t call anyone in my family. It would be a disaster. They won’t understand what happened to me, and I won’t be able to answer the countless questions I know they’ll have. My heart sinks at the thought of my mom. She must be worried sick, not knowing where I am. I’ve never gone more than a day without talking to her.

“Hello.” Hearing his voice sends a jolt of electricity through me, like a breath of fresh air. It takes me back to the happy nights when he whispered sweet nothings in my ear, when my head rested on his chest and I felt nothing but happiness, love, and peace. A tear slips down my cheek. His voice gives me a moment of reprieve from the hell I’ve just survived.

“Maxim?” I try to say his name calmly, but it comes out frantic. My legs tremble, threatening to give way. No. I shake my head and square my shoulders, forcing myself to stay strong. I won’t fall apart. Not now.

“Sophia, where are you?” His voice is thick with panic and worry. I look around, but my unshed tears blur my vision.

“I don’t know,” I cry, leaning against a brick wall for support.

“Sophia, calm down.” There’s so much noise on his side of the phone—keys jangling, harsh breaths from running—I can’t concentrate. “Look around. Is there a street sign?” The frustration in his voice mirrors my own, and my heartbeat quickens. How is he supposed to find me if I don’t know where I am?

My head shakes, even though he can’t see me. “Nothing. I-I ran into an alley. I knocked out one of the men holding me captive and ran away with his phone. Please, hurry.” A sob escapes my lips. I’m not making sense. I want to say more, but all that comes out is a jumble of words. I want to say more, but all words slip away as my thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

Footsteps—heavy, deliberate—cut through the silence. My feet freeze, but my head snaps toward the noise. A man’s silhouette emerges from the shadows, his form tall and imposing, a mere outline against the dim light.

I push myself to my feet, legs shaking beneath me, and start running. But I don’t get far. Everything happens in slow motion. First, a loud bang. Then, a sharp pain erupts in my stomach. I look down and see red seeping through Luca’s jacket. My eyes widen. My chest tightens. I lower my shaking hand to my stomach, to where the blood is spreading. I touch it with my finger then bring it to my face, examining the crimson stain as my heart races.

It’s blood.

Light flashes behind my eyelids as lightheadedness threatens to pull me under. But then my doctor’s instincts kick in, like a switch flipping on in my mind. I quickly place a hand on my stomach, pressing down as hard as my weak, trembling fingers can manage, trying to staunch the bleeding. Less than a minute passes before another loud bang rings out around me, and in the blink of an eye, my knees buckle as I collapse onto the cold cement floor.

I scream a guttural, agonizing sound that echoes in my ears as the pain from my leg and stomach combines into an overwhelming torrent. It feels like molten metal has been poured into my veins, searing through my body with every pulse of agony.

Fight through the pain, Sophia. You need to inspect the damage.

I inhale sharply, pushing through the fog in my mind, the haze clouding my vision from the intensity of the pain. I force myself to look down at my leg. Blood pools around me, staining the cement beneath me. The bullet went straight through—or at least I think it did. I don’t have the strength to search for it.

Focus, Sophia. You need to stop the bleeding.

With trembling, unsteady hands, I rip a piece of my already-shredded dress and try to tie it around the wound in my leg.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound of blood dripping onto the floor is too loud, too constant. Fuck. I’d been so focused on the leg wound, I’d forgotten about the one in my stomach. I press both hands to the wound in my stomach, wincing as a cold, sharp sting shoots through me. It doesn’t stop the bleeding. The blood continues to seep through my fingers, unstoppable. My whole body shakes—not just from the cold, but from the realization. I’m losing toomuch blood. If I stay here without medical help, these wounds will get infected. I’ll die.

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