Page 20 of The Hunter
He was trained, but not disciplined. All muscle, no strategy.
I had both. Traininganddiscipline. Muscleandstrategy.
I feinted left, then drove my elbow into his face, the sound of breaking bones echoing around me. He staggered back, spitting blood, but didn’t fall. He came at me again, faster and more powerful than before.
Was he military? Maybe. But I got the feeling it was something dirtier. His style reminded me of the way Gideon fought after spending five years forced to participate in underground death matches.
Something about this man made me think he was more accustomed to close-quarter combat, brutal and unforgiving.
We grappled. Fists. Elbows. Knees. It didn’t help that I was wearing swim trunks and boat shoes.
When he slashed at me again, I blocked with my forearm, wincing as the blade nicked skin. Blood slicked my arm, hot and fast, but I’d survived worse.
As he attempted to swipe at me again, I grabbed his arm and twisted until I heard his shoulder pop, then drove my knee into his gut.
He spit blood and tried to stab me again, raking my side with the blade.
I responded by driving my fist into his jaw. Once. Twice. The third strike cracked something.
He dropped the knife and went for my throat.
We struggled, breathing labored as we each fought for dominance. When he slipped on wet cement, he took me down with him. But before he could grab the knife, my fingers wrapped around the handle.
In one swift motion, I drove it into his side.
His scream echoed around us, but he kept moving. Kept fighting.
I stabbed him again, this time under the ribs.
He choked, eyes wide, blood bubbling up from his mouth as I shoved the blade in even further.
Finally, he went limp. I gave one last twist of the knife before standing, my hands coated in blood, chest heaving.
I didn’t stop to think. I turned to Ariana and cut her free. She slumped over like a rag doll. I caught her before her head hit the concrete, and pressed two fingers to her wrist. Finally, I felt it. Her pulse. It was dull and faint, but it was there.
I exhaled, pressing my forehead to hers.
Why did this relief feel so...sharp?
I wasn’t supposed to care about her. Ididn’tcare about her.
She was just leverage to me. A pawn. A tool in my game of revenge.
And yet, seeing someone else touch her,takeher, had ripped something open in me. A crack. A fault line I didn’t know existed.
I lowered her to the floor and moved toward the now-deceased body. I rifled through his pockets for an ID, something to tell me who he was.
But there was nothing.
I turned my attention to a nearby duffel bag, finding what I estimated to be close to fifty thousand dollars inside. If I had any doubt about this being a kidnapping for hire job before, they were gone.
But who hired him?
Sure, I had my own plans to abduct Ariana, but I thought I was being smart and methodical about it. Had spent months watching, studying, analyzing. Planning the perfect attack.
Yet in all the months I spent watching, studying, and analyzing, I never noticed this man once.
Who was he? And what did he want with Ariana?
