Page 11 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

I can’t go along with Hunter’s plan.

And you know what? I didn’t have to worry about Hunter interfering with my father’s case if Hunter was arrested.

As if sensing my internal thoughts, Hunter also retrieved a small, delicate handgun. It was silver, something that I assumed some grouchy old lady would stuff in her petite purse for protection as she tottered off to church. Not something fit for a large, muscular man.

When he shoved the thing into his hoodie pocket, my intestines dropped to the floor. Was that gun a silent threat to make me cooperate? Or something he’d use against the cops if things went sideways?

Hunter walked up to me and locked his sapphire eyes on mine.

“Raise your hands, Luna.”

It took me a second to comply—a tornado of scenarios playing in my mind’s eye—but once I did, Hunter gently guided the blade of his knife between my wrists and snapped off the zip tie.

My arms rejoiced with the freedom, but when I stood up, he held up the T-shirt and the knife. In case I had any misconception I had a choice in changing.

Fucker.

I motioned for him to turn around, but he just crossed his arms over his chest.

I clenched my jaw tightly but peeled my old shirt off, and, with grimaces and biting pain in my joints, pulled the fresh T-shirt over my body.

Please let the cops notice I changed. Please let them think it’s suspicious, no matter what part of the script explained it.

No. Don’t let them grow suspicious—it would endanger them…

Hunter moved toward me, and after pausing at my flinch, he pulled my hip against his, his arm around my waist, while the other still clutched the sharp threat. Reminding me I was still his prisoner as he walked me down the long corridor.

My head pounding from a growing headache.

The cold, damp air pierced my skin as the sinister glint of the knife offered a warning of the fate that might await the poor cops. The walls seemed to whisper stories of sorrow and torment the Vigilante had caused, and as we ventured deeper into the darkness, the unnatural lighting created an unsettling atmosphere that gnawed at my nerves.

Finally, we reached the spiral staircase that I’d naively raced down, trying to save my boyfriend’s life.

Hunter positioned himself behind me and guided me up the first step.

“I can’t believe I fell for you and your lies,” I mumbled.

The metallic clanks of our footsteps ascending the metal staircase rose in pitch with an ominous tension. As did the ache in my body with each step.

Clank.

“I was going to explain all of this, Luna.”

Clank. Clank.

“When? On our wedding day?”

I could hear the smile in Hunter’s voice. “You’ve thought about marrying me?”

Okay, the burning in my cheeks wasn’t from embarrassment; it was from rage.

I couldn’t wait to see him in handcuffs. I couldn’t wait to see his name smeared across every news headline like the stain that he was.

“This is what I wanted to tell you before Franco got to you,” Hunter said. “I was going to reveal it all, Luna—admit to being the Windy City Vigilante. I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

Right. His ominous innuendo that he had something to confess. It would have been a softer blow, hearing about it rather than experiencing it—that was for damn sure.

I remained silent as we walked through his hidden closet, where he forced me to wait as he shut all the hidden doors and latched them, blocking any evidence of anything out of order.

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