Page 69 of Hunter

Luca places a hand on his chest in mock offense, his face exaggerated in pain. “You wound me, Volkov.”

I roll my eyes, already regretting asking them to come. Maxim’s lips press into a thin, taut line, and he turns his attention back to me.

I look at Andrei and Luca, giving them a subtle nod to follow me inside. “We’ll meet you inside.”

Luca steps closer, stopping between Maxim and me, his voice lowering in a teasing tone. “I suggest you guys wrap up whatever telenovela you’re trying to recreate.” He jerks his head toward the street, and I follow his gaze. A few of my neighbors stand on their lawns, some peeking through their windows. “Before the real cops make a cameo in your show.” Luca turns and strides toward the door, clearly done with the spectacle.

I inhale deeply, feeling the weight of the situation press down on me. I’m definitely going to regret asking Luca to come.

Maxim stands up so quickly, I don’t even have a chance to take a step back before he grabs me, pulling me against him and wrapping his arms tightly around my waist. His scent—whiskey with a hint of sandalwood—envelopes my senses, and for a brief moment, I find myself wishing what happened earlier didn’t happen.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly, his voice heavy with regret.

“As am I,” I croak out, trying to hold myself together but failing miserably. The tears threaten to break free, and I can’t stop them. Maxim tries to reach for me again, probably to console me, but I turn away sharply, walking towards the door before he can do anything.

No matter how much my heart aches right now, I refuse to be with him when it’s painfully clear how easily he destroys our relationship for the sake of his own sanity, using my safety as an excuse. I’m done with all the half-truths, the lies, and the secrets he thinks he can keep from me. I’ve had enough.

If I’m honest with myself, this was always going to happen between us. Maxim and I have a mountain of issues, both as individuals and as a couple, and instead of facing them head-on, we’ve just slapped a bandage on everything and expected the wounds to heal on their own.

We used sex to escape our problems, to bury everything under a veil of pleasure. What good has that done us? Nothing.It only made the silence louder and the distance between us greater.

I’m not just blaming Maxim for all of this. I played my part in this mess too. I used sex as a way to escape my own demons, pushing Maxim to his breaking point without considering he wasn’t ready. I was so caught up in my own grief, I didn’t stop to think about him. It’s hard to swallow, realizing I was the one who set the dominoes in motion.

“Are you alright?” Andrei asks, his voice soft as I sit down in the farthest chair away from them in my living room.

“No.” I huff out the word. I was going to say yes, but I just don’t have the energy to lie right now. And it’s not like my face is hiding the devastation I feel.

“It will all be—” Andrei starts to say, but Luca interrupts with a sarcastic, raised eyebrow and a pointed look.

“Don’t fucking say ‘it will be alright,’ Andrei. You’re not a psychic. You can’t just say that and make everything better.”

“I was trying to—” Andrei begins to defend himself, but Luca cuts him off again.

“No positivity is needed or wanted right now.” Luca gestures toward me with a sweeping motion. “Does she look like she’s in the mood for your bullshit?”

“I’m not in the mood for either of your shit right now,” I snap, my frustration boiling over. “So shut the fuck up or take it outside.”

Luca clicks his tongue three times in mock disappointment. “Someone’s a little testy.” He smirks at me, and I narrow my eyes, glaring at him.

“Is this some kind of intervention?” Maxim’s voice breaks through, and I turn to see him standing in the doorway. My breath catches in my throat when I take in his appearance—his bloody, cracked knuckles, his swollen lip, the bump on his head. I know I caused the lip and bumpwith the luggage, but hisknuckles? Those are from something else. If I know Maxim, he took his anger out on a wall.

Andrei jumps up, rushing to Maxim’s side as he stumbles forward, but Maxim shrugs him off with a quick shake of his head. “I’m fucking fine.”

“You’re clearly not.” Luca’s voice is dry with sarcasm as he shoots Maxim a pointed look. “But if you want to keep pretending, take a seat, and let’s get on with it.” Maxim rolls his eyes at Luca’s comment, shaking his head, but instead of sitting next to me, he walks toward the dining room. He grabs a chair, drags it into the living room, and sits across from me, next to Andrei, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“What are they doing here, Sophia?” Maxim asks, his voice rough, but his eyes avoid mine.

“For you, Maxim,” I reply, my voice flat, empty of all emotion. I don’t even want to look at him right now.

“What about me?” Maxim’s voice is low, almost strained, his frustration palpable.

I close my eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to get my thoughts in order.

“Sophia is worried about you, Maxim. We’re all worried about you,” Andrei says, beating me to the punch.

“Not me. I’m just here for the food.” Luca’s remark doesn’t warrant a response, and I’m too numb to bother.

Andrei doesn’t pause. “After you left, I tried to clean up the mess you made and found a letter that sparked my interest.” He opened a folder I hadn’t even noticed he was carrying, pulled out papers, and spread them on the coffee table.

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