Page 102 of The Hunter
It felt like the couch.
Why the hell was I on the couch? It wasn’t even the couch in the bunker. That I could have understood. But in the living room?
Cato pawed at me with a low whine, his nose nudging under my chin. A sinking feeling formed as I pieced together the events that led me here.
I remembered eating dinner. Chicken marsala with green beans and mashed potatoes. Ariana was even jumpier during our meal than she was earlier. Her laugh was a little too bright. Her smile a little too forced.
And then…nothing. Just fog.
The phone buzzed in my pocket again. I fumbled for it, my hands still sluggish and uncooperative. I blinked at the screen as I struggled to focus on the name.
Salvatore.
I never heard from him twice in one day.
Hell, I rarely heard from him twice in one year.
After everything else going on, I couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling clawing its way through my body.
“What’s going on?” I answered.
“Just heard from a contact in Miami,” Salvatore said, his voice brisk. “That Bratva enforcer you disposed of? Well, his cell phone came back online. The Bratva is tracking it and they dispatched a team.”
I sat up too fast, the world tilting. “Say that again.”
“The Bratva enforcer’s phone… It’s back online.”
“Do you know the location?”
“Not the exact coordinates, but they sent a team to Maine.”
A knot twisted in my gut. I hadn’t touched that burner since I got up here. I kept it powered off, hidden in the duffel bag.
“I have to go,” I said curtly then ended the call.
My body moved before my brain caught up, pain throbbing in my ankle with every step as I bolted up the stairs and into the bedroom. I rushed to the ottoman and unzipped my duffel bag. Everything was as I left it.
Except for one thing.
The phone was nowhere to be found.
I turned to the bed.
Empty.
Ariana was gone.
“No, no, no,” I muttered, panic slamming through me like a freight train.
I tore through the house, my heart pounding, dread thick in my throat. I checked the bathroom. The library. The kitchen. But I knew she wouldn’t be in any of those places. I could feel her absence.
When I yanked the garage door open, my worst fear was realized.
The Wrangler was gone.
Of course she ran.
I should’ve seen the signs. Hell, Ididsee the signs, but I was too trusting to put the pieces together.
