Page 70 of Hunter

Maxim stands abruptly from his chair, his movements quick and angry. He strides over to Andrei and yanks him up by his shirt, the raw fury in his eyes unmistakable. “What gave you the fucking right to go through my things?”

“Maxim, stop,” I beg, but my voice is small, barely above a whisper. I catch Luca moving out of the corner of my eye, his stance shifting.

Andrei holds up a hand, his gaze never leaving Maxim’s. “If you wouldn’t keep things from your brother and your girlfriend, I wouldn’t have to go behind your back to look for answers.”

“More like ex-girlfriend,” I mutter, the words barely audible but apparently not quiet enough. I forget I’m in a room with three trained killers. My face turns beet red as three sets of eyes snap toward me. Maxim’s stare is particularly intense, like a physical weight. I freeze, my breath catching. Shit. Why did I say that?

“Awkward,” Luca says in a singsong voice, breaking the silence with a laugh. “Anyone going to tell me what made the gorilla so mad?”

A snort escapes me before I can stop it. I clamp my hand over my mouth, mortified. The image of Maxim as Donkey Kong throwing barrels flashes in my mind, and it almost makes me laugh out loud. But this is not the time for laughter, Sophia. Get it together.

“You’re the bane of my existence,” Maxim says, his voice dripping with sarcasm, exhaling a long, exaggerated sigh as he lowers Andrei’s feet back to the floor.

“You’re going to make me fall in love with you if you keep up with the flattery, Maxim.” Luca blows him a few dramatic kisses.

Maxim closes his eyes and takes a few steadying breaths before finally, reluctantly, opening up. He begins to share everything—the letters, the information he’s been keeping from Andrei and me. It takes nearly an hour to lay it all out, the weight of his secrets crashing down on us. From the first letter to the last, everything he found hidden in my home—and everything in between.

By the time he’s done, I feel like I’ve just run a 5k, downed a few sleeping pills, drank ten cups of coffee with extra sugar, and knocked back a bottle of tequila all by myself. My body is drained. My mind is spinning. The emotions inside me are too much to process. After the fight earlier, I thought I might’ve overreacted when he mentioned Russia. I could see the regret in his eyes, as if he was going to apologize, but I was too angry to stop. I’m glad I didn’t stop. Maxim has been carrying all of this for months, focusing only on my safety. I didn’t overreact. Now, I feel like maybe I underreacted.

The room falls into a heavy silence, the kind that makes you uncomfortable just being in it. Even Luca, who always has a sarcastic remark, is quiet. Andrei’s mouth opens and closes, as if he has too many questions and can’t decide which one to ask first. He looks like he’s in shock, and I feel the exhaustion hit me in full force. I glance at the clock—it’s 2 AM. No wonder I’m so tired.

Maxim follows my gaze to the clock, and without a word, he stands up. Andrei and Luca mirror him. “Let’s continue this tomorrow,” Maxim says as he walks toward the door and opens it for them. “A good night’s rest might do us some good. Tomorrow, we can go over all the emails and letters. Maybe you guys will catch something I missed.”

Everyone agrees, and after Luca and Andrei say their goodbyes, they get in their cars and drive off. Neither Maxim nor I move until their cars are out of sight. Maxim stands frozen, like a lost puppy, unsure of what to do with himself. I’m too tired to feel sorry for him right now. Why should I? He made his bed; now, he has to lie in it.

“Goodnight, Maxim.”

His pleading eyes meet mine for a brief moment before I slam the door in his face.

“If I have to spend the rest of my life apologizing and trying to make up for my stupid mistake, then that’s what I’ll do. I promise,” Maxim’s tearful, broken voice echoes through the door.

I press my forehead to the door, crossing my arms tightly around myself, trying to hold it together—but it’s futile. Tears begin to fall freely, unstoppable, as the wall I built around my heart during our argument crumbles. The weight of everything he said, of everything we’re facing, is too much. The pressure finally bursts, and all the emotions I’ve been holding flood to the surface.

“Same song, different tune,” I murmur, not caring if he hears me. I’m done for the night.

I know Maxim and I have a long, deep conversation ahead of us, but it’s not going to happen tonight. Right now, all I want is a hot shower and the comfort of my bed. Nothing else matters.

I’m so fucking over tonight. Tomorrow might be better, but with the people I’ve surrounded myself with, I highly doubt it.

TWENTY-EIGHT

SOPHIA

“Idon’t need a babysitter,” I say flatly, my voice dry as I stand in the entry of my foyer, watching Andrei, half-asleep and yawning, holding two coffees.

“I’m home,” I add, looking past him with a hint of sarcasm. “With Maxim’s men guarding the house, I think I’m well protected. So you can head back home and get some much-needed rest.”

His posture stiffens, and his eyes widen. Yeah, Maxim isn’t as clever as he thinks. I’ve known about the men following me everywhere, and lately, their numbers have doubled. I didn’t say anything to Maxim because they haven’t gotten in my way—they’ve just been reporting my movements, something I tell Maxim anyway. This whole thing is pointless.

I try to shut the door, but Andrei stops it with his boot.

“He didn’t send me.”

“That’s bullshit, and we both know it.”

“I’m serious. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

My brows furrow. “Why are you here then?”

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