Page 62 of Hunter

No. He deserves worse. My fist tightens, but I hold myself back. “Let him go?”

She digs her knee deeper into his back. “I think he learned his lesson.” She looks down at Danny, her voice cold as ice. “Didn’t you, Danny?”

“Please, let me go! I swear, I won’t do anything like this again. Please!” Danny’s voice cracks, desperate and full of bullshit. This man’s got a rap sheet for abuse. The next woman he targets won’t be as lucky as Sophia. He’s trying to save face, but I know exactly what’s going on. He needs to boost his bruised ego thanks to what Sophia just did to him.

I hear the sliding door open. Shit. Someone’s coming. I need to get Sophia out of here before this situation escalates. I extend my hand to her, but she stands on her own, pushing herself up without my help.

A smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth. She’s not trying to prove anything to me. No, she’s proving to herself she can handle things. I couldn’t be prouder. There’s something abouther, something different—healthier, stronger, more alive. Her glow is back, and it hits me harder than I expected.

“Someone’s coming,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper as she looks past me, eyes wide.

I scan the room quickly, mentally calculating her options. The bathroom’s out—whoever’s coming could be headed that way. But then my eyes land on a slightly open door: Robert’s home office. I look at Sophia, raising an eyebrow. What was she doing in there? I remember the door being closed when we left the bathroom earlier. She’d once told me her mother doesn’t go inside; it’s left just as her father had it before he died.

“Go back into your father’s office,” I say. “I’ll take care of this snake.”

Sophia’s breath hitches. Her gaze flickers between me and the door, but she doesn’t argue. She knows what I’m asking, and I’m certain I’ll get the answers later. “Go,” I urge.

She walks inside, and as the door clicks shut behind her, I turn my attention back to Danny. He’s already trying to get up, using the few seconds I gave her to slip into the office to make his move. Big mistake.

I grab him by the throat and lift him off the ground, a few inches of space between him and the floor. His hands claw at my wrist, but it’s useless.

“The only reason you’re still breathing is because we’re in her house,” I whisper into his ear, my voice low and lethal. “Get your affairs in order, because you’re as good as dead. You’re a fucking cockroach.”

The smell of urine hits me before I even look down. He already soiled himself. Pathetic.

I lock eyes with him, watching the color drain from his face. Sweat beads on his forehead, his lips trembling. “She’s not like your past victims, Danny,” I continue, my voice a cold promise.“Mark my words. You’ll pay for what you did to her and so many others.”

I release my grip, and he crumples to the floor, gasping for breath. “Now go,” I say, my voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Enjoy the little time you have left.”

I don’t give him another glance as I make my way to the office. The door creaks open, and I find Sophia sitting in a chair, her gaze unfocused, lost in thought. Her eyes are filled with tears, but she’s holding herself together, in control.

“The moment I would get home from school,” she says softly, her voice distant, “Dad was here. I’d come inside and spend hours reading my silly little romance books while he worked. My sister used to call them that. It used to drive me crazy.” She lets out a hollow chuckle, no humor in it. “I have so many memories in this room.”

Her eyes take in the space, the weight of her words hanging between us. My chest tightens at the thought of all she lost.

She stands up abruptly, taking a deep breath, as if trying to shake off the tension that has been building. “Can we go home?” Her voice is steady now, though I see the faint traces of sorrow still lingering behind her eyes.

I’m careful not to press her on her father, not yet. She’s holding so much pain, and I don’t want to force her to relive it right now. But I will ask her later about the office and what she was doing there. If I ask now, she’ll shut down, and I don’t want to add to her burden.

I clear my throat and offer her my hand. “Alright. Let’s go home.”

She pauses, searching through her purse before pulling something out. “I think this belongs to you,” she says, handing me the toy.

I freeze for a moment—damn, I completely forgot about it. With everything going on with Danny and her mom, I’d completely lost track of it.

Sophia smirks, her eyes glinting with mischief. “It was a waste having it inside me if you weren’t going to play.” She chuckles as she walks past me, teasing, “You owe me, Volkov.”

A grin tugs at my lips. “Oh, I know, baby. I owe you big time.”

TWENTY-FIVE

MAXIM

It’s been a little over two weeks since that day at Sophia’s mother’s house. That day was the last time I felt truly at peace. Since then, everything has been falling apart. I can’t seem to hold it together anymore.

It all started almost a year ago—the first letter. At first, it was just a couple of notes every few months. Then, it picked up speed: every few weeks, then every few days. Lately, it has been relentless. I’ve noticed something strange. Every time I receive one of these letters, something happens. Either that day or at some random point later, events spiral out of control. It wasn’t until the break-in at Sophia’s house a week ago that I finally saw the connection.

When I really started thinking back, I realized the letters started six months before Andrei was shot. The first note was a hand-written message on a napkin, tucked under my windshield wipers. It read,knock knock. A couple of weeks after that, I noticed my car had been moved from one parking spot to another without my permission. At the time, I thought maybe one of my men had done it and didn’t give it much thought. But looking back now, it feels like a message. They wanted to show me how easily they could get close—how they could infiltrate myspace without me even realizing. The thought leaves a knot in my chest, a reminder that nowhere is truly safe.

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