Page 48 of Theirs to Hunt
“You’ve done enough,” he says, voice low and dangerous, a warning buried in the calm before the storm. “It’s time to go.”
I open my mouth to argue, but I catch something over his shoulder.
Anonymous.
He’s not watching anymore. He’s moving. Toward Bobbie.
Panic spikes, roiling my stomach. I twist, trying to break Grayson’s grip, but it’s like fighting steel.
“Let her go!” I scream, throat tight, heart thundering.
Bobbie is still in shock, her eyes wide as Anonymous approaches, calm, controlled.
Grayson pulls me closer, voice cold and flat. “You’re not in control. You need a breath. And you need to gain distance from any witnesses.”
My fury ignites. I whip around, glaring up at him.
“Fuck you. You’re not in control. And if you stop me from keeping her safe, you never will be.”
The words hang between us. Sharp. Dangerous.
His jaw flexes. His eyes narrow. But he lets go.
I tear away from him. The warmth of his touch lingers on my skin, and I shove the thought aside, pushing toward Bobbie.
My steps are fast. Not fast enough.
Bobbie’s frozen. Her hands tremble before she curls them into fists, forcing the fear out of her body.
Anonymous moves like a tide, calm, unstoppable. People scatter to make way.
I want to scream.
The bass pounds with my rage, with the crackling, unbearable mess of it all.
“Let. Her. Go.”
My voice shakes with fury as I slip through the crowd, blocking his path.
He stops. And that’s what pisses me off most.
He’s calm. Observing. Unbothered. He doesn’t need to raise his voice. Doesn’t need to threaten. He exists, and that’s enough.
Grayson is cold, surgical precision.
Anonymous is something else.
Not this time.
He takes her in his arms and carries her bridal style toward the stairs to the mezzanine.
We follow. Grayson takes my arm, shielding me from the revelers. His grip is still firm.
I don’t fight him. But my thoughts race.
She’s safe. But my gut twists at what might’ve happened if I hadn’t been there.
We stop in front of a door I didn’t know existed. The club owner’s office, I assume. The one they disappeared into a few steps ahead of us.
