Page 66 of Hunted to Be Mine
For now, with Selina next to me, I let myself believe we might make it.
Chapter 15
Specter
The station buzzed with midday noise. I sorted it into useful and useless: two guards by the main doors, unarmed and bored. A family of four with matching luggage, harmless. A businessman checking the time, a bulge under his jacket, maybe a weapon, maybe bad tailoring. Nothing urgent, but I kept my eyes moving.
Pain pressed under fresh bandages. Three cracked ribs, a deep cut across my left shoulder, enough bruises to make breathing a choice. I’d worked with worse. It was data. Manageable.
What wasn’t manageable was the hollow that opened every time Selina stepped out of sight. Like now, while she ordered at the café, back to the terminal.
I shifted and my side complained. Last night came back in pieces: the narrow compartment, the cramped beds, Selina’s steady hands cleaning my wounds. Professional at first. Not for long.
It sharpened: her body curved against mine, breath slow with sleep. I drew her closer despite the heat in my ribs. The car swayed. Her hair brushed my chin.
I stayed awake most of the night, listening to her, tracking the warmth where our skin met. Keeping watch, I told myself. But there was something else, a pull that pushed the pain to the edges, something I couldn’t name.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Selina said, setting a tray on the table. Coffee in paper cups. Pastries in wax paper.
“What thing?”
“Watching the room like you’re waiting for the world to end.” She sat across from me. Her knee touched mine under the table.
The contact tightened a wire inside me. Not the usual pullback. Something worse. I wanted to close the gap. I didn’t. She met my eyes anyway, a quiet acknowledgment of the night on the train.
“Force of habit,” I said, taking a cup. “Old training doesn’t quit.”
“So does the operative, apparently.” Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “You scared me yesterday.”
“Sorry to disappoint Blackout.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Her fingers brushed mine as she passed a pastry. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
I bit into an apple and let the taste fill my mouth instead of answering. My attention drifted to her hands. The same hands that had stitched me with calm focus and later trembled against my skin for a different reason. They’d moved over my chest slowly at first, then surely.
“We need a next move,” she said. “Blackout will regroup. If not him, then Dresner and Oblivion.”
“The Farm,” I said. The word surfaced before I could stop it. “That’s where we need to go.”
“What’s the Farm?”
“I don’t know exactly. If I had to put it on a map, I’d bet the mountains in Croatia.” The words came out tight.
Her palm covered mine, warm and steady. “Then that’s where we find answers.”
I turned my hand and laced our fingers. That small connection felt more dangerous than a fight.
The burner rang, cutting through the station noise.
Selina slid closer, set the phone between us, and dropped the volume until it blended with the chatter. She answered, voice low. “Hello?”
“Thank God you answered.” Mattie’s voice tumbled out, relief obvious. “Are you both okay? Tell me you’re still in one piece. Well, two pieces, but—you get me.”
“We’re fine.” Selina sent me a quick smile. Her shoulder pressed mine as we leaned in. “Both still breathing.”
“And you?” I asked.
“Nothing we couldn’t handle,” Damon said in the background, voice deeper. “Your operative training coming back to you, Specter?”
