Page 113 of Hunted, Season Three

Carelessly tossing the container elsewhere is followed by Mutt offering us each a match.

Together, we strike and toss them onto the trail, diligently watching as the flames race to engulf the areas drenched in fuel.

“Kiss your baby boy in hell for us,” I vindictively coo over her blood boiling screams at the same time my future husbands wind their arms around me.

Mutt drapes his along my shoulder while Kid curls his around my waist.

Both hold on protectively tight.

Wordlessly promise to always do whatever it takes for us to survive.

I swiftly capture each of their dangling hands to return the loving sentiment knowing that these flames mark the end of having to fight for our future.

That they’re scorching the earth.

Cleansing the scene.

Creating ashes for us to rise from.

Stand on.

Build on.

From this moment forward, we’re no longer being hunted.

We’re living free.

Epilogue

A few months later…

Bunny

“I don’t wanna dance, Rabbit,” grumps Nolan from the white backyard bench he’s been sitting on since we finished cutting our wedding cake.“I wanna sit here.Drink a beer.And not have fuckin’ flashes goin’ off in my face every twenty seconds.”

Folding my ivory, long sleeve, chiffon covered arms over my tits that have grown almost a full cup size during my pregnancy is attached to a firm expression.“It’s our wedding day-”

“Only reason I let Garcia and Demián talk me into wearing this fuckin’ suit.”

“And you look so fucking sexy in it.”

He struggles not to grin behind the Pilsner pressing against his lips.

What can I say?

Mutt in a suit?

Win column.

The “please repeat” side of the sheet.

Does he look good in his typical day-to-day jeans and whatever shirt is clean getup?

Of course.

It’s just like Kid – who is rocking the shit out of burnt orange, brown jacket and matching polka dotted bowtie along with light dress pants and dark shoes – he looks even more fuckable all dressed up.

I love that Nolan chose a light gray suit and tie.

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