Page 19 of Curvy Desire's Second Shot

“Who was he?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.

Hudson didn’t look at me right away. Instead, he took a long, deep breath, like he was trying to steady himself. When he finally met my eyes, his expression was hard, his gaze piercing.

“Someone I hoped I’d never see again,” he said.

I stepped closer, my heart pounding. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’s not just some random guy,” Hudson said, his voice low and controlled. “He’s connected to The Fold.”

The name sent a chill down my spine. “The group Jesse mentioned?”

Hudson nodded. “Yeah. But it’s more than that.” He pushed off the counter and started pacing, his movements restless and tense. “I know him. From years ago. Back when I was... involved in things I shouldn’t have been.”

I frowned, trying to piece it together. “What kind of things?”

“Things I don’t talk about,” Hudson said sharply, then sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I crossed paths with him when I was cleaning up a mess someone else made. He was part of it. I exposed him, got him arrested. Thought I’d seen the last of him.”

“But you didn’t,” I said softly.

“No,” Hudson admitted. “And if he’s involved now, it means this isn’t just about you. It’s about me, too.”

I sank onto the couch, the weight of his words settling over me like a heavy blanket. “So, my ex is working with this group. And they’re targeting both of us?”

Hudson stopped pacing and turned to face me, his expression grim. “That’s exactly what it means.”

The room felt colder, the air heavier. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to process what he was saying. “Why me?”

“Because you’re the easiest way to get to me,” Hudson said. “And because your ex has a grudge. They’re using you to hit two birds with one stone.”

The idea made my stomach turn. I looked down at my hands, feeling a wave of anger and helplessness wash over me. “I hate this.”

“I know,” Hudson said quietly, sitting beside me. “But we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

The hoursthat followed passed in a blur of whispered conversations and tense silences. Hudson filled in the gaps where he could, explaining what he knew about The Fold. They were a group that thrived on control and manipulation, using intimidation and fear as their primary weapons. They targeted women, especially those who seemed vulnerable, and they didn’t care who they hurt along the way.

“They’re not just a gang,” Hudson said, his voice hard. “They’re organized. And they don’t back down.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “So, what do we do?”

“We take it one step at a time,” he said. “Figure out their next move before they make it.”

It sounded simple, but the weight of it was crushing. I leaned back against the couch, exhaustion settling into my bones. “I don’t know how you stay so calm.”

“I’m not calm,” he said, glancing at me. “I just don’t have the luxury of losing it.”

His honesty caught me off guard, and for a moment, I saw past the stoic mask he always wore. Hudson wasn’t invincible. He was just as human as I was, just as scared. But he carried it differently.

Later that night,the tension between us seemed to shift, softening into something quieter but no less charged. Hudson was sitting on the couch, his head resting against the back cushions, his eyes closed. I sat beside him, the silence between us comfortable for the first time all day.

“Thank you,” I said softly.

He opened one eye, glancing at me. “For what?”

“For everything,” I said, my voice trembling slightly. “For protecting me. For not giving up on me, even when I make it hard.”

“You don’t make it hard,” he said, his voice low. “You just make me want to try harder.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You always know the right thing to say.”

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