Page 47 of Hunted Vengeance

Sure, we all enjoy certain aspects of the field, and we’re great at the positions we have, but this is our core.

This is how we started.

“I got something,” Hale calls out after a while of the room being bathed in complete silence other than the clicking of our keyboards.

Keeping with that silence, we all simultaneously jump to our feet and rush over to his iPad. Hovering around him, we watch as a limo pulls up to the back parking lot of the church. I’m unable to take my eyes off the limo and watch as a man unfolds from the back seat.

His back is to the camera. He stands but doesn’t even attempt to straighten his clothes or brush his hands over any wrinkles that he could have received while riding in the back of the car. Instead, he takes a step forward, completely unbothered, with overwhelming confidence.

“That’s him,” I state.

It’s not Adriano because he already pulled up. I got the footage on my surveillance of that and watched the cocky fucker make his way into the church, acting like he was God’s gift to all humans and that everyone should be falling at his feet—I fucking hate him.

Everything about him, but mostly what he has done to Colette. The things I know and don’t know he’s done. Plus, her mother. The piece of shit has really fucked up a lot of people’s lives, and I can’t stand someone who does that shit for no good reason.

“He’s not turning around. What other angles do you have?” Theron barks.

“None,” Boden mutters. “I didn’t have time to set any of this shit up properly.”

I know he’s probably a little irritated at himself for that, but he’s far more pissed off with me because of it. He just doesn’t say that, but I can tell he is, mainly because I made him go back to North Carolina when he could have stayed here and prepared.

I wasn’t anticipating this shit, though. Nobody was. I thought for sure that I would have been able to follow Colette to whatever location they took her to and keep an eye on her there.

But I got fucked right over with that shit.

We continue watching in silence, waiting for this person to show just a glimpse of his fucking face, but the mystery man doesn’t turn around. In fact, he keeps his back to the camera, almost as if he knows it’s there. He doesn’t just walk inside of the building. Hestrollsinto that church.

“Let’s watch this exact view and wait for the fucker to come out,” I growl.

We do that, but he doesn’t come out the back. We watch as all the guests leave, but the limo stays in place until everyone else in the parking lot scatters. I can see the smirks and gossiping as the guests leave. When the parking lot is empty, the limo pulls out and moves away.

“Where the fuck is that limo going?” I growl, mostly just thinking out loud because none of the men around me have the slightest fucking clue, either.

“Who has the front of the church?” I call out.

“It’s me,” Theron states before he spins around and runs over to his iPad. We’re all moving as fast as fucking possible. The excitement of this whole thing is beyond anything else we’ve had in a while, well, since Theron and Lucille.

“What is the time stamp?”

A few minutes later, Theron calls out for us to come over, and I swear to fuck, if we were being recorded, this would make goddamn bloopers or some shit. We’re like cartoon characters running from station to station.

“Fuck, how the hell?” I ask.

The mystery man has his head tipped, his focus on the sidewalk, which is a far cry from the way we walked into that church. I am under no illusion that his feelings are hurt in any way.

Maybe his pride, but he’s not sad—he’s pissed.

Theron’s got nothing. Not a single distinguishing mark on him can be seen. Not even any kind of facial hair that we could find anywhere else. In fact, he keeps his chin down.

“He knows the cameras are there,” Boden mutters.

I agree with him. But before I can say anything, I hear a throat clear. We all lift our heads, turning them to the side, and that’s when we see her.

Standing in the hallway is my woman.

Wearing an ugly-as-fuck wedding dress and too much makeup, but she somehow still looks fucking amazing. Maybe it’s just because she’s finally here with me after weeks of not knowing if she was safe or not—dead or alive.

Colette smiles, her eyes moving around the room and taking in all the men who have now shifted their attention to her. I’m sure she recognizes most of them, but I doubt she knows them by name. She’s only met them once, at Theron’s wedding.

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