Page 21 of Hunter

“You know, it’s a little creepy that you’re staring at me while I eat,” she says, a hint of amusement in her voice. The lightness in her tone is like a breath of fresh air, something I didn’t know I was missing. We’re far from being in a good place, but this small moment—this playful exchange—feels like a gift. I’ll take what I can get.

I tilt my head with a smirk, trying to ignore the weight in my chest. “How can you expect me not to stare at my reason for living?” A faint blush tints her cheeks, so subtle that anyone else might miss it, but I know Sophia too well to let it slip unnoticed.

“Since when are you the romantic type, Maxim?” Her eyes soften as she meets my gaze, a fleeting smile tugging at her lips.

“Since you barged into my life and turned it upside down.” Her gaze shifts from me to the wall, her expression drifting into something far more distant. I can feel the shift, the uneasesettling between us. I grip the edge of the table, my hands sweating. I’ve been walking on a razor’s edge with her, and now, I’ve said the wrong thing.

“Will you teach me how to defend myself?”

The question knocks the wind out of me. I blink, trying to process her request. Of all the things I expected her to say, this wasn’t even on the radar. My brow furrows. She’s asking me to help her protect herself.

“Yes,” I whisper, bracing myself for her to follow it up with a demand for space or time alone now that she has eaten. Instead, she thanks me and walks to her room. The bed creaks as she lies down, and I sit in stunned silence, trying to hold onto the hope her request represents.

But it’s hard to cling to hope when guilt claws at me, reminding me of all I’ve done—and failed to do. Her once vibrant face is now shadowed, her eyes dull, cheeks hollow from days of barely eating. I lean back, exhaling deeply, wishing I could do more.

“Maxim?”

I immediately get up and move to her room, not wanting to waste a second. She’s lying there, the comforter half-lifted, patting the bed for me to join her. Without hesitation, I remove my shoes and climb in beside her. She turns toward me, and I hold her close, inhaling her scent and feeling her warmth seep into me.

“This doesn’t change anything between us, Maxim,” she murmurs, already half-asleep. “We still have a lot of issues. I’m still angry at you. But maybe you can chase the nightmares away for me.”

I hold her tighter, brushing her hair away. “I love you,” I whisper into her hair, allowing myself to close my eyes and let the rhythm of her breathing lull me into a sense of peace. Maybe, just for tonight, we can help each other sleep.

But then, I jerk awake. My stomach twists in pain, a deep, sharp ache that has me gasping. A grunt escapes me, and I clutch my side. What the hell? I blink, disoriented, but no one’s there. Then, I hear it—Sophia thrashing beside me.

I watch in a daze as she flails, her arms and legs kicking in every direction. Her eyes are closed, her breath shallow, her body trembling. Is this a nightmare?

Her leg kicks out, barely missing my groin, and I quickly stand, unsure of how to help. She screams—loud and raw—and I rush back to her, lifting her into my arms and pulling her gently but firmly into my lap. I whisper words she can’t hear, my hand brushing through her tangled hair, trying to soothe her with my voice as much as my touch.

“You’re okay. You’re free. You’re safe.”

Slowly, her body relaxes. Her breathing slows, and her violent movements cease, leaving only the soft sound of her labored breathing. Tears slip from her closed eyes, and my heart aches for her—feeling a pain I can’t fix. This takes me back to when Andrei was just a kid, so scared of the world. I remember holding him, soothing him the same way, wishing I could take away his pain.

All I want to do is take her pain away and inflict it upon those that hurt her. We are no closer to finding the people who did this, but between my obsession and her anxiety, we will never heal. Right now, I need to focus on Sophia. We both need healing, and we're not going to get it alone.

Sophia tilts her head back and opens her eyes, and the sadness in her gaze punches the air from my lungs. It’s a weight I wasn’t prepared for. I gently caress her cheek, my thumb tracing the soft skin, and then lean in to kiss her forehead. But she turns away, just slightly, and my heart tightens.

Ignoring the ache in my chest, I grab a bottle of water from her nightstand and hand it to her. She takes it with tremblingfingers, and I place a hand under her shoulder, gently helping her sit up so she can drink without spilling.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers after a few sips, handing the bottle back to me. I place it on the nightstand, my own breath shaky.

“What reason do you have to be sorry?” I snap, harsher than I mean. The words are out before I can stop them, and I feel them land like daggers between us, guilt cementing inside my heart. But I can’t take them back. She doesn’t need to apologize for this. I’m the one who failed her. My chest tightens as I wait for her to react, but she just shrugs, lifting her palms in surrender.

I don’t let her look away. I grab her face, holding her gently but firmly, forcing her to meet my gaze, to see the love I have for her—the admiration I want her to believe in, even when she’s at her lowest.

“You listen to me, Sophia,” I say, my voice rough but earnest. “You never need to apologize for your pain, for how you’re dealing with this… You’ve been through hell, and you don’t owe anyone an apology for it.” She tries to pull away, but I won’t let her. “No, don’t you dare look away from me. Please, don’t.”

Tears are welling in my eyes, and as if on cue, a single tear slips from hers. I rest my forehead against hers, my breath shaky.

“I know it feels like you’ll never escape the darkness, but you will. You are so goddamn strong, Sophia. You are,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “You’ll make it through this.”

She breaks in front of me, sobs wracking her body, and I hold her close, letting her cry as the tears burn my own cheeks. “You’ll get through this,” I repeat, letting the words fill the space between us. “I have faith in you.”

But then, the anger comes—loud, desperate, and so raw. She punches my chest with all her strength, her tiny fists pounding against me like they want to break me, and I let her. I take every hit, every sob, every question that shreds my heart.

“Why? Why did this happen to me?” she yells, and with each question, the walls I’ve built around my guilt crack, piece by piece. “Why didn’t you rescue me in time?” Her voice cracks, and my chest tightens. The pain in her words slices me open.

I hold her tighter, letting her anger wash over me. I can’t speak or explain the weight I carry in my heart. I just hold her, taking it all, wishing I could take her pain away.

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