Page 56 of Hunter's Game
“Eden!” Hunter’s voice seemed far away. “Stay with me. That’s an order.”
“Since when...do I follow orders?” But darkness was creeping in at the edges of her vision.
The last thing she saw was Hunter’s face, fierce and desperate in the firelight. His features—usually so controlled, so measured in response—were transformed by naked emotion. The warrior who calculated every risk, who never acted on impulse, was pleading with her to stay, blue eyes bright with unshed tears as he applied pressure to her wound with one hand while the other cupped her face.
The last thing she heard was King calling for a medic, the sergeant’s usual gruff tone replaced by urgent command. Behind that, Hunter’s voice close to her ear, words meant only for her. “Don’t you dare leave me now. Not when I’ve just found you.”
The last thing she felt was Hunter’s hand in hers, holding on as if he could keep her anchored to life through sheer force of will. His fingers intertwined with hers, the calluses and scars that matched her own creating a connection that transcended physical contact. In that touch was everything they’d become to each other—partners who understood each other’s darkness, warriors who respected each other’s strength, two people who’d found something neither had been looking for.
Then everything went dark, and Eden fell into the same shadows that had claimed her mother fifteen years ago.
But unlike her mother, she didn’t fall alone.
Blood has a distinct smell—copper and salt and something primal that triggers every survival instinct. Hunter had been around enough violence to know that smell intimately, but this was different. This was Eden’s blood, spreading across his hands as he tried to keep pressure on her wound.
“Don’t you dare.” His voice was rough as he carried her through chaos toward the medical station they’d set up, cradling her against his chest with desperate gentleness. “Don’t you fucking dare die on me now.”
The plea contained everything he hadn’t found words for yet—how she’d transformed from operational target to essential partner, how her fierce independence and tactical brilliance had become as necessary to him as oxygen. Three weeks ago, he would have calculated her survival odds with professional detachment. Now, the possibility of losing her created a visceral fear unlike anything combat had ever triggered.
He pressed his forehead briefly against hers as he navigated through smoke and gunfire, his normally steady voice breaking. “We haven’t even had our first real date yet. Can’t check out before I show you how normal people spend time together—without explosions or gunfire or international conspiracies.”
She didn’t respond. Her skin was already taking on that gray pallor he’d seen too many times in combat—the color of severe blood loss that made her normally olive complexion appear ashen. Her features, usually so animated with determination, had slackened, dark lashes creating stark shadows against hollowed cheeks.
The bullet had torn through her left side just below her ribs, leaving a jagged entry wound that pumped dark arterial blood between his fingers. Hunter couldn’t tell if it had hit anything vital, but the rapid, shallow quality of her breathing and the spreading stain across her tactical gear suggested significant internal damage.
“Hunter!” King’s voice cut through gunfire and explosions. “Transport’s two minutes out. How bad?”
“Bad.” He laid Eden on the waiting gurney, helping the club’s medic cut away her shirt. “Through and through, heavy bleeding. She’s...”
He couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t voice the fear that was trying to claw its way up his throat.
“She’s too damn stubborn to die.” King’s certainty was reassuring as he coordinated their defense. “Especially now that her plan’s working.”
As if to emphasize his point, more federal helicopters appeared overhead. Romano’s forces were caught in a perfect trap—hemmed in by FBI tactical teams on one side and outlaw bikers on the other. The compound had become a war zone, but Eden’s carefully orchestrated chaos was achieving exactly what she’d intended.
“Multiple arrests in progress,” one of the patches reported over the radio. “Feds are sweeping up Romano’s people. Found some interesting documentation in those vehicles too.”
“The weapons shipments.” Hunter remembered Eden’s explanation. “She used Carson to feed them intel about a major arms deal.”
“Girl’s got style.” King’s smile was fierce. “Though I could have done without the part where she got shot.”
Before Hunter could respond, the distinctive sound of motorcycle engines cut through the chaos. A group of riders approached the compound at high speed, their cuts marking them as members of a familiar MC.
“Devil’s Mark patches!” someone shouted. “At least twenty bikes!”
Hunter’s hand tightened on his weapon, but Darkness held up a hand. “Wait. Look who’s leading them.”
Through blood loss and adrenaline, Hunter forced himself to focus on the approaching riders. The lead bike carried two people—one in fulltactical gear, the other immediately recognizable despite the circumstances.
Katherine Chen sat ramrod straight behind the rider, her academic appearance transformed by combat pragmatism. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight, practical braid rather than her usual sophisticated style, and she wore black tactical clothing instead of her curator’s formal attire. Despite the chaos surrounding them, she maintained the composed watchfulness that had first caught Hunter’s attention in the museum surveillance footage—eyes constantly scanning, body positioned for optimal situational awareness.
“Katherine Chen?” The name left his lips just as Eden’s gurney was being loaded into their emergency transport. Though not biologically related, Hunter could see how both women carried themselves with the same disciplined precision—the result of shared training under Sarah Mitchell’s guidance. Where Eden approached situations with barely contained intensity, Katherine’s features carried a cooler analytical quality, reflecting their complementary operational specialties. “What the hell?”
“My thoughts exactly.” Darkness moved to intercept the newcomers while Hunter stayed with Eden. “Though something tells me our girl knew they were coming.”
Sure enough, Katherine headed straight for them as soon as she dismounted, ignoring the guns trained on her. “How bad is she?”
“Bullet wound, left side.” The medic didn’t look up from working on Eden. “Lost a lot of blood. We need a real hospital.”
