Page 32 of Hunter

It was waiting for her.

I was waiting for her all along.

THIRTEEN

SOPHIA

This hotel is, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever stayed in. Our bungalow sits at the very end of a long wooden bridge, secluded and quiet. A soft chuckle escapes me. Maxim really did want us to be alone.

It’s insane—completely absurd—that he rented out an entire hotel just to ensure no one would bother me. The sheer extravagance of it makes my stomach twist, and I roll my eyes at the thought. He throws money around like it’s meaningless, like it’s the solution to every problem. Maybe to him, it is. Spend a million dollars? Another million is probably sitting in his account like loose change, waiting to be spent without a second thought.

But no amount of money can erase the memory of being trapped, helpless. No one barged in to save me then. No locked doors or rented spaces could keep them out. The safety he’s trying to buy feels flimsy, like a fragile illusion that could shatter with one wrong move.

I shake my head, trying to push away the creeping unease. Forget about that now, Sophia. You’re here. You’re safe. But the thought doesn’t stick, and a small voice in the back of my mind whispers: Safe for now.

As much as I don’t approve of how much he spent, I can’t deny the gesture itself was thoughtful. I’ve seen a side of Maxim over the past few days I wasn’t sure he was capable of—a gentler, more patient version of him. He has given me the space I asked for. He hasn’t pushed me or overstepped. Somehow, he has managed to help me start clawing my way out of the darkness that’s always right there, waiting to swallow me whole.

It’s strange, this change in him. A breath of fresh air I didn’t know I needed.

I was so afraid of seeing him again, of being overwhelmed by his strong, forceful presence, afraid he wouldn’t understand me or the weight I carry. But something in him is different now—calmer, softer.

I let out a sigh and tilt my head toward the sky. The memory of the night we first met flashes through my mind. I remember the butterflies he gave me, the way my heart raced like it would burst out of my chest. It feels like that night happened years ago, not months. Looking back now, it’s as though I’m staring through fog at a distant dream. It doesn’t feel real.

No, that version of me doesn’t feel real anymore.

She was a woman who smiled brightly, who loved intensely. A woman who believed in happy endings. But that woman feels like she no longer exists. She’s gone, buried under the weight of everything I’ve endured.

Sometimes, the longing to reach out and grab that memory—to make it real again—is so strong, it nearly breaks me. But reality always bites back, cruel and unrelenting, reminding me I can’t be her. I’ll never be her again.

I stand on the balcony, my arms resting on the wooden ledge as I stare at the endless ocean stretched before me. The wind blows hard, carrying the briny scent of saltwater, and the waves crash loudly against the bridge’s wooden beams.

I close my eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the sound of distant seagulls wash over me. For the first time in what feels like forever, a calm I thought I’d lost starts to settle in my chest. Slowly, a soft smile pulls at my lips, the tension in my body easing bit by bit.

This moment feels…right, as if it was always meant to be, a small reprieve written into the story of my life.

Strong arms wrap around my waist from behind, pulling me out of my thoughts. My body straightens instinctively, but when he rests his chin gently on top of my head, I relax into him.

“This is such a beautiful view,” he whispers, his voice low and soft, as though afraid speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.

I hum in agreement, my gaze still on the water.

“But not as beautiful as you, moya lyubov.” His words are a caress, and I feel my smile widen despite myself.

The longing to see his face becomes overwhelming, so I turn in his arms, lifting my head to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes steals my breath. Hunger swirls in those dark irises, raw and unguarded, sending heat coursing through my body, pooling low in my belly.

I close my eyes for just a moment, letting myself feel it—the desire that still lingers between us, fierce and alive, a desire I thought had been snuffed out for good.

“How very romantic of you,” I say, trying to inject a hint of teasing into my tone. But it comes out softer, flirtier than I intended.

He doesn’t reply. Instead, his hand comes up, his thumb brushing gently along my jawline. The simple touch sends a shiver skittering down my spine. His lips descend, capturing mine in a kiss that’s soft but deep, igniting something I’ve tried so hard to bury.

My heart thunders in my chest and heat flares between my legs, a dull ache begging to be soothed.

My heart wants to give in, to let go of everything else and simply get lost in him.

But my mind isn’t done fighting.

This isn’t just attraction—it’s my body clouding my judgment, my heart trying to convince me of something I’m not ready to believe.

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