Page 75 of Hunter

I lift my head, meeting his eyes, a warm smile tugging at my lips. “Thank you.”

He squeezes my shoulder. “No need to thank me, babe.”

My heart flutters at the sound of that word, the softness of his voice. God, I feel like a teenager in love for the first time.

We sit there like that for what feels like hours, my head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped protectively around me, but the silence is slowly eating at me. I’ve been building up the courage to speak, to say what’s been weighing on me, but I don’t know where to even begin. There’s so much, and I feel trapped in it.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, please,” he murmurs, his voice so low, I almost miss it, like a quiet plea.

I exhale deeply, the words stuck in my throat. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Don’t think. Just blurt it out.”

“How was your meeting today?”

His shoulders sag. “Horrible,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

I sit up slightly, trying to catch his gaze, but he’s staring at the ground, his expression haunted. “I thought I was going to get arrested right there.” His words are heavy with a gravity that pulls at my chest. “The new Chief of Police and his DEA buddy are out for blood. They’ve convinced themselves I’m the one who killed Mario—the previous Chief of Police.”

My stomach drops. “What?”

“They’re refusing to believe me. I had to call Luca to send me the security footage from Mario’s house the day he died.” The realization hits me—this must have happened while I was recovering at Luca’s house. I’ve been completely oblivious to the danger Maxim have been facing.

“Does that mean you’re off the hook?” I ask, my voice small and uncertain.

Maxim turns to face me, his eyes dark with something I can’t quite place. “No. They still think I had something to do with it.”

A chill creeps down my spine. The look in his eyes isn’t just about the threat to his freedom—it’s deeper, more personal.

“What’s another target on your back?” I try to joke, my attempt to defuse the tension falling flat. The rage rolling off him is palpable.

He grabs my face gently, his eyes wide and intense. “Do you not understand the severity of this situation?” My mouth goes dry, his gaze pinning me in place. “This isn’t some random person I can easily deal with. These guys have power, Sophia. They could fabricate evidence or twist the truth, and no one will ever doubt them.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “But they’re cops. They took an oath to serve and protect.”

Maxim’s grip tightened on my face, his voice strained as he spoke with a cold edge I’ve never heard before. “Don’t be naive. They’ve got the power to ruin lives, and they won’t hesitate to do it if it suits their agenda.”

He laughs bitterly, his words sharp like a blade. “Power doesn’t care about oaths, Sophia. It corrupts everyone. Cops are no different, no matter what promises they make.” He spits out the word ‘oath’ like it’s something filthy.

I don’t need to think twice about it. He’s right. I’ve seen enough of the world to know power twists people. I’ve dealt with enough arrogant doctors who thought they were untouchable. But this feels different. This isn’t just about people abusing power—it’s about life and death.

“Do you have a plan?” My voice cracks just slightly, betraying the fear I’m trying so hard to control.

He shakes his head, his frustration palpable. “I don’t have a fucking clue.” His voice is low, guttural, as if he’s choking on its weight. He lets go of my face and leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands gripping his head as if the world might collapse if he doesn’t hold himself together. His body trembleswith something deeper than just anger—something darker, something more dangerous. “I’m drowning, Sophia. I keep pushing and pushing, but I’m sinking. My legs are failing me. My arms won’t move. I’m stuck.”

I take a step forward, my heart breaking for him. My hand gently rubs his back, a silent offering of comfort, but it feels so small compared to the storm I can see building inside him. “We’ll figure this out. Together,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss the side of his head, hoping the soft touch will help ease some of the rage and fear inside him.

But he stands up abruptly, and it’s like the ground shifts beneath me. My stomach drops. Where is he going? I try to stand, but my muscles feel like they’re made of stone, like they won’t move. After a few tries, I finally force myself to stand and follow him.

I catch up to him as he paces, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. The look on his face is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. He’s a man on the edge—angry, lost, and broken. It’s terrifying. He kicks a chair violently out of his way, and its force makes me flinch, my breath hitching in my chest. This rage—this fury—feels like it could consume everything in its path, and I don’t know how to stop it.

I freeze, unsure of what to do. He’s like a cornered animal now, dangerous, unpredictable. Every movement feels like it might set him off. I take a deep breath, gathering what little courage I have, and take a step toward him. “Maxim Volkov,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. He turns to face me, his eyes wild with emotion, and for a split second, I wonder if he even sees me anymore. “Talk to me,” I say softly, but the plea is thick in my voice, the desperation raw.

He laughs, but it’s not a real laugh. It’s dark and jagged, like it’s scraping against the inside of his chest. “Talk to you?” He points at me, his finger trembling with the intensity ofhis frustration. “Talk to you?” He laughs again, but it’s bitter, hollow. “That’s rich, coming from you—the queen of fucking avoidance.”

I feel the sting of his words cut deep, deeper than I want to admit. They hit harder than I thought they would. My breath catches in my throat, my chest tightening as the weight of everything we’ve been through crashes down on me. He’s right. I’ve avoided him. I’ve shut him out when all he’s tried to do is protect me. I’ve pushed him away without even understanding what he’s carrying.

His finger jabs in the air as he continues. “All I’ve been trying to do is talk to you, Sophia. Trying to be honest. But every time I open up, you shut me out. You keep pushing me, forcing me to bury what I feel, and now—now you want me to open up to you?” He lets out a strangled laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

---