Page 52 of Hunter's Game
Even if it killed them both.
Especially if it killed them both.
After all, the best love stories were written in blood.
The thing about spilled blood is that it always leaves a stain. Eden studied the rust-colored marks on her boots, evidence of last night’s battle still fresh despite her attempts to clean them. The Blind Jacks compound had survived Romano’s initial assault, but the cost was written in blood and bullet holes.
“Incoming!” The shout came just before the first explosion hit.
Eden was moving before the echo faded, muscle memory taking over as she sprinted for the defensive position they’d set up on the clubhouse roof. Hunter was already there, rifle trained on the convoy approaching through pre-dawn darkness.
“Someone’s feeling ambitious this morning.” His voice held grim amusement. “Those aren’t just hired guns anymore.”
He was right. The vehicles approaching the compound screamed military precision—armored personnel carriers, tactical response units, even a helicopter circling overhead. Romano was done playing games.
“King’s got the south entrance locked down,” Eden reported as she set up her own rifle. “But welost contact with the prospects watching the old factory entrance.”
“Lost contact how?”
“Complete radio silence about ten minutes ago.” She tracked the helicopter through her scope. “Either they’re dead, or...”
“Or Romano’s people got to them.” Hunter’s jaw tightened. “We need to assume the perimeter’s compromised.”
“It was always compromised.” Eden’s smile held no humor. “The question is, which of your brothers sold us out?”
Hunter cut her a look. He didn’t want to believe it, but she saw no other way. If they were being attacked from an otherwise unknown point to outsiders, someone had to have tipped them off.
Before Hunter could respond, more explosions rocked the compound. Through the smoke, Eden caught glimpses of movement—figures in tactical gear breaching the outer defenses with practiced ease.
“They know exactly where our blind spots are.” Hunter’s voice was hard and grim. “Every approach, every fallback position...”
“Only someone who’s lived here would know all that,” she pointed out, doubling down on her assumption. Eden switched to her sidearm as the attackers got closer. “Someone who’s been part of planning the defense.”
Their eyes met in grim understanding. The traitor wasn’t just any patch. It was someone inDarkness’s inner circle. Someone who had infiltrated the Blind Jacks with the express purpose of selling them out.
The radio crackled. “We’ve got multiple breaches!” King’s voice carried over gunfire. “Fall back to—” Static cut him off.
“Go.” Eden was already moving. “I’ll coordinate from here.”
“Like hell.” Hunter caught her arm. “Last time we split up, you got yourself captured.”
“And this time I’ve got a clear shot at whoever’s feeding Romano our positions.” She nodded toward movement on the factory roof. “Someone’s up there coordinating the attack. Someone who knows this compound as well as you do.”
Understanding dawned in Hunter’s eyes. “You know who it is.”
“I have a theory.” She checked her weapons, hoping she was right. Hating that she probably was. “The question is, do you trust me enough to let me handle it?”
The moment stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid. Three weeks ago, they’d been strangers. Now, Eden couldn’t imagine facing this battle without him at her side—not just because of his tactical skills or physical presence, but because of how he’d come to understand her in ways no one else ever had.
Hunter pulled her in for a kiss that tasted like gunpowder and promises. His hands cradled herface with surprising gentleness, thumbs brushing her cheekbones in a touch that conveyed everything words couldn’t—respect for her abilities, faith in her judgment, and something deeper that had grown between them despite every reason to resist it.
“Just try not to die.” His voice was rough, blue eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. “I’m getting attached to having you around.”
The simple admission carried more weight than flowery declarations or dramatic vows. From a man who measured words as carefully as ammunition, who’d spent years maintaining professional distance from everyone except his brothers, it was tantamount to a confession.
Eden allowed herself one more heartbeat of contact before pulling away. “Same goes for you. Darkness needs his Road Captain.”
“And what do you need?”
