Page 8 of Hunter

“It’s all my fault.” The words catch in my throat, but I manage to speak them aloud, the guilt I’ve carried for so long threateningto swallow me whole. I take a few moments to gather myself before continuing. “She’s in this because of me.”

Luca hurt her years ago. He broke her heart, and she’s still putting the pieces back together. But me? I made her greatest fear come true. She was taken, hurt—because of me. If I had just listened to her, left her alone when she asked me to.

If she hates Luca for what he did, how will she feel about me? What if she doesn’t want anything to do with me? Can I even stay away if she asks?

I walk to the chair in the corner and slump down, burying my face in my hands. My mind feels like it’s shattering, and I don’t know how to put the pieces back together.

“She’s strong. She’ll make it through this,” Andrei says, his voice steady with a certainty I can’t share. I want to believe him, I do, but it’s not her strength that worries me.

I lift my head and turn my gaze back to Sophia. “She is strong. I know that with every part of me. She can overcome anything. But what I’m afraid of is what happens when she wakes up.”

I don’t say it for sympathy or encouragement. I say it because he’s my brother. He’s the only one who understands, the only person I want to confide in is lying in a hospital bed.

He pats my shoulder. “The situation’s hard. She might give you hell, but I see the way she looks at you, brother. She loves you. And you love her.” He pauses, turning his gaze to Sophia. “But you need patience. We don’t even know the extent of what they did to her. We only see the physical wounds. You have to do what’s best for her. If she needs space, you give it to her.”

He takes a deep breath. “It’s going to be hard, wanting to be with her every second, but suffocating her won’t help anyone.”

I glance at him, surprise flickering across my face. Since when did Andrei become the voice of reason? The Andrei I know charges through life like a bull, but now…there’s a measuredcalm in his words. Maybe fatherhood really does change a person. It’s strange seeing him this way—thoughtful, steady—but maybe it’s what we all need right now.

Her pain is hers to carry, hers to process. No matter how much I want to fix it, to push her toward healing, I know I can’t. Trauma doesn’t follow a timeline; it lingers, festers, and only fades when it’s ready. All I can do is be here for her—steady, patient, and willing to catch her when she stumbles.

He gives my shoulder one last squeeze before he walks away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the steady beep of the machines filling the silence.

I don’t know how much time passes. Minutes? Hours? I feel stuck in a moment that won’t end as I stare at Sophia, trying to make sense of the chaos that has unraveled.

One minute, we were happy, walking toward the secret garden where my mother used to grow roses—her favorite place, and mine after her death. It was the one place my father couldn’t reach me. The perfect place to ask Sophia to be my wife. I had everything planned—candles and rose petals scattered across the ground. But then she was gone, and now, she lies here, a shadow of the woman she was.

I pull the velvet box from my pocket and open it. The princess-cut diamond engagement ring stares back at me, a promise of everything I still have to fight for.

I’m coming for them. They won’t know what hit them until I’m standing over their ashes.

THREE

MAXIM

Stepping back from the desk, a twisted grin pulls at my lips as I take in the masterpiece before me. Donny Antoneli, heir to Marco Antoneli’s empire and brother to dear Elana, has his head crammed inside a garish green gift box tied up with a pristine red bow. It’s almost festive, in a macabre sort of way.

The pièce de résistance? A love note stapled neatly to his forehead, the crimson ink bleeding into his skin. Inside the note lies the first clue—a breadcrumb for Marco to find his son’s severed arm. Should he succeed, there’s another clue waiting to lead him to the next piece. It’s a scavenger hunt, really. A family bonding exercise.

I chuckle softly, the sound reverberating through the room. Marco has always loved his games, but this time, I’m the one holding all the cards.

When he finds the last piece, it’ll be crammed into the mouth of his bound and gagged wife. She’s still alive—barely. She’s unconscious, hidden in his closet, waiting for the grand finale. I may be a twisted bastard, but killing women? That’s not my game, unlike Marco and his vile excuse of a son, who treat women like disposable trash.

Andrei and I will never forget what Marco tried to do—selling off his own daughter, Elena, to some lowlife scumbag, a man infamous for breaking the women he “owned.” The thought of it still makes my blood boil. They had no qualms about throwing her life away, about stripping her humanity for a profit.

A chuckle escapes me as I recall Donny’s screams while I cut through his limbs. Oh, the satisfaction I felt with each chop of the ax, the sharp blade severing bone with ease.

Andrei’s footsteps echo in the silence, and I flick my eyes toward him. He’s watching me, his brow furrowed, his gaze heavy with concern. A few days ago, he told me he was worried about me—that he’s seen a darkness in my eyes, one he’s never seen before. And he’s right. Something inside me broke the moment I saw Sophia lying in that hospital bed.

It wasn’t just rage that snapped; it was something deeper, something primal, a need so consuming, it has become my only focus. Finding the bastard who did this to her isn’t just a mission—it’s an obsession, burning through me day and night. It’s the only thing that makes the helplessness bearable, the only thing that gives me purpose when everything else feels hollow.

Andrei doesn’t say anything as he stops beside me. He doesn’t have to. The worry in his eyes says enough. But I can’t afford to care about that right now, not until this is over.

Sophia hasn’t woken up yet. It has been almost three weeks since Luca found her. Turns out, Luca wasn’t lying. I saw the footage of that bastard shoot her twice, get close enough to pick her up, but run when he heard Luca screaming for her. My men have been hunting the piece of shit, but he’s gone deep underground.

I couldn’t just wait around for answers. The restlessness gnawed at me. So, I took matters into my own hands.

Luca overheard his men talking about a job to kidnap a Russian boss’ girl. That’s how he found Sophia. But Luca didn’tget the information we needed—just the location where she was held. He’s not trained in interrogation like I am. My father was a sick and twisted man who found pleasure in corrupting me from a young age. I learned early how easy it was for a hot knife to cut through skin. By the time I was seven, I stained my hands red as I tortured my father’s enemies to get the information we needed.

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