Page 10 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

Splat. Splat…splat…

With the tempo of Franco’s falling blood drops slowing, Hunter’s face hardened, and his lips tightened as he licked his teeth and shook his head.

“You’re lying,” he said.

My heart plummeted, and my ribs squeezed around my lungs. Adrenaline rushed through my veins once more, and my thoughts ping-ponged between the knife and Hunter. Maybe he would find some other explanation or legal threat to send the police away. Maybe he was done with me and my betrayals.

Amidst the pungent aroma of mildew and damp earth was the hint of metallic tang that reminded me that blood was already spilled on the floor.

Just like mine might, too, if I didn’t do something.

I waited for Hunter’s gaze to shift down, and then I bolted to my feet, making it to the knife in just a couple of seconds. Luckily, it was easy to get off the metallic hook, so I spun around. Trying to hide my grimace at the ache of moving so fast—no need to show him even more weakness.

Hunter’s eyes darkened with a fiery intensity.

“Stay back!” I held the knife out in front of me, my wrists screaming in pain from the plastic ties.

“That was a very unwise move, Luna.” He stalked closer.

Maybe I couldn’t make it all the way up to his jugular vein, but a stab to the gut would immobilize him.I think.One stab, he would go down in pain, and I could make a run for it.

His eyes fixed on the knife.

“Drop it. Now.”

With every ounce of adrenaline fueling my limbs, I bolted into a sprint, the world around me blurring in frantic motion as I aimed my knife at Hunter’s stomach. But just as the taste of freedom seemed within reach, Hunter’s arm deflected my wrist with a stinging swat.

The hasty shift threw me off-balance, gravity tugging me menacingly toward the ground. Before I could react, an iron grip wrapped around my waist and, with a punishing swiftness, halted my momentum, leaving me reeling from the sudden motion. He spun me around, pulling me into a suffocating embrace, his chest an unyielding barrier to my back, while the chilling edge of a blade pressed against my throat, his breath brushing against my ear.

“You should’ve chosen differently, Luna.”

CHAPTER8

Luna

“They’re here.” Hunter’s gaze locked on to his phone’s video feed.

Adrenaline made my nerves buzz.

Hunter, ever the calm Vigilante, simply shrugged into a hoodie—one I hadn’t noticed had been hanging on the other end of the tunnel. And as he did, he kept his steely eyes on me, his determined glint conveying more than words ever could—a silent warning not to try anything again.

Last time, I’d wound up with a knife to my throat. I thought he was going to use it, but he’d let me off with a warning, then spent the last few minutes prepping me for the cops that were now about to swarm Hunter’s estate.

Hunter grabbed a T-shirt from the same corner and approached me with it. Probably kept all sorts of clothes down here, presuming he’d thought of every contingency. But he didn’t think of me finding this place, now did he?

“In case you get any ideas, what do you think will happen with your father’s writ of habeas corpus?”

He wouldn’t.That was my Achilles heel. Hunter knew what mattered most to me in my life was getting my father out of prison. I was the only one fighting for him, and surely, Hunter wouldn’t punish myfatherby sabotaging his only hope of getting his verdict overturned.

Of course he would, Luna. A man capable of killing people wouldn’t blink at using his prosecutorial power to get a motion declined.

Betrayal stung my eyes, and my head struggled to come up with a reasonable plan. I couldn’t let those cops walk out of here—allow Hunter to win and continue his reign of terror—but I couldn’t let my father pay the price for Hunter’s crimes, either.

“You remember what you’re going to say?” Hunter’s voice was firm and curt.

I nodded. Remembering his script wasn’t hard—the hard part was coming up with a new solution that would protect my father whilealsoescaping.

Hunter went to his wall and swapped his bloodied knife for a clean one. I stared at that blade, wondering if it was the one he’d used on over fifty victims, and then my gaze drifted to Franco’s unconscious body.

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