Page 93 of The Hunter
I clenched my jaw.
He didn’t have to tell me that. I knew it was bad. I’d killed someone connected to the Bratva, fed his body to the alligators in the Everglades, and ripped their merchandise out from under them.
Except Ariana wasn’t merchandise, or a “high-ticket item”, as Salvatore had referred to her.
She was a person.
Myperson now.
And I was willing to burn down the fucking world to keep her out of harm’s way.
My gaze flicked to one of the monitors where a national news broadcast played. Victor Kane sat across from a congenial news anchor, his face drawn into a perfect performance of heartbreak. His hands wrung together. His voice trembled as he pleaded for his wife’s return.
Bullshit.
All of it — the heartwarming stories he shared about his wife, his undying love for her — it was all a lie. A part of me wondered if perhapshehad something to do with her disappearance. Ifhehired the Bratva to take care of her.
My mind raced as I considered everything I’d learned, especially finding the same man who attempted to take Ariana in the background of one of Sarah’s final videos.
Could it all be connected?
Did Victor hire the Bratva to eliminate Sarah?
Did he want to teach Ariana a lesson, too?
The need for answers burned in my chest, but it was nothing compared to the sick, lurching fear that twisted through me at the thought of Ariana in the Bratva’s hands.
I’d seen what they did to women. The auctions. The disappearances. The mutilated bodies that washed ashore like discarded trash.
I couldn’t let that happen to her.
Wouldn’tlet that happen to her.
On the screen, Victor’s eyes looked glassy and perfect. Fake.
I stared at him, and something cracked open deep inside me.
This wasn’t only about Sarah anymore.
This was about Ariana, too.
About the way she’d looked at me last night, open and trusting and so fucking beautiful it almost brought me to my knees.
“I need to know why,” I said quietly. “What they want with her. I need to know what I’m up against here.”
“You’re up against the Bratva,” Salvatore reminded me. “At least the Miami branch. And you don’t go to war with the fucking Bratva. Which is exactly what you did when you stole their merchandise and killed one of their hitmen in the process, even if they don’t know it yet. They eventually will, and when they do, they’ll stop at nothing to bring you down. There’s no way this ends clean for you.”
“I’m not asking for clean,” I responded. “I just… I need answers. Not guesses. Not speculation. The truth. I need to keep her safe.”
Another protracted silence fell between us. “You care about her. Don’t you?”
I didn’t answer right away. My throat felt tight, too full of things I didn’t understand. Guilt. Fear. Fury. Maybe even something worse.
I didn’t even want to begin to unwrap any of it. All I did know was that I planned to do whatever was necessary to protect Ariana from suffering any more abuse, whether at her husband’s hand or the hands of the Bratva.
“I just want answers.”
He was silent for a moment, obviously weighing whether to help or cut all ties before his association with me landed him in hot water. Finally, he said, “I’ll be in touch.”
