Page 89 of Hunter

No. Sophia wouldn’t leave—not without talking to me first.

I shake my head, forcing myself to think rationally. She’s not trying to sneak out. Jeff saw her leave, which meant she wanted to be seen. If she wanted to disappear, she’d know how to do it.

Pulling up the camera feed on my phone, I tap into the office footage. The screen loads, showing Sophia standing at the doorway. Her phone is pressed to her ear, and she looks around,her brows furrowed when she doesn’t see anyone. Then, her eyes flick toward the camera.

She taps the back of her phone twice with her index finger. A signal.

She’s telling me something.

Jeff interrupts my thoughts. “Do I stop her?”

I grit my teeth, debating. My instinct screams at me to have her stopped, to protect her. But I know Sophia—she wouldn’t leave unless she had a reason.

“No,” I say finally, my voice firm. “Let her go.”

I hang up and immediately open the tracking app linked to her car. A blue dot appears on the map, already moving away from the house.

“What’s going on?” Luca asks, his brows raised as he notices my shift in focus.

“Nothing,” I reply, glancing at Danny. “Let’s leave him to stew for a few hours. We have somewhere to be.”

Without waiting for a response, I stride out of the room, Luca trailing behind me.

“Where are we going?” he asks, confusion evident in his voice.

“I don’t know yet.” I unlock my car and slide into the driver’s seat. My eyes fix on the moving blue dot. “But hopefully, we’ll find out soon.”

THIRTY-FOUR

SOPHIA

“Just open the box, Sophia,” I plead to myself, my voice trembling. My hand hovers over the lid, but the closer I get, the more violently it shakes. A frustrated groan escapes me, and I drop my arm to my side. “For fuck’s sake, Sophia. Open the damn box!” The words echo in the quiet room, more a demand than encouragement.

But I can’t.

I know why—I’m terrified of what I’ll find inside.

No matter how many times I try to reason with myself, my brain clings to that fear of the unknown. It’s just a box, I tell myself. It belonged to Dad. How bad can it be? But the gnawing feeling in my gut insists otherwise. Whatever is inside will change everything. That certainty makes my chest tighten, my palms sweat, and my fingers refuse to move.

It’s why I’ve avoided it for so long. Every time I think about opening it, my heart races, and worst-case scenarios flood my mind. What if it holds something I’m not ready to face? I end up distracting myself, finding anything else to do, pushing the box to the back of my mind. But it’s never really out of sight, not completely.

A sharp voice crackles through the phone speaker, pulling me from my spiral.

“Who do you fucking work for?” Maxim’s voice.

I freeze, listening intently. His tone is harsh, edged with fury.

Maybe Danny will finally crack, finally end this nightmare. I hold my breath, waiting, but the silence stretches unbearably. No answer. My shoulders slump in disappointment.

The sound of Maxim’s breathing grows heavier, more ragged, with each unanswered question. His frustration bleeds into every word, his patience running dangerously thin. He’s close to snapping—I can feel it, even from here.

I push my concern for Maxim aside and turn back to the box. It looms in front of me, its weight pressing down like a thousand unspoken truths.

“You can do it, Sophia,” I whisper. Just think of it like ripping off a Band-Aid. Quick and clean.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and steady myself. “I can do this. I can do this.” The mantra barely convinces me, but I cling to it like a lifeline.

With one final inhale, I reach out, yank the lid off, and fling it onto the floor like it’s on fire. The sudden movement startles me, but my eyes dart immediately to the contents.

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