Page 138 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

“That guy has more skills than I realized. He managed to take care of something that should’ve been impossible.”

I didn’t know what he meant, but I sensed it had something to do with concealing evidence.

“But you’re forgetting something.” Hunter’s voice was low and grainy. “None of this would have been possible withoutyou, Luna.” He pursed his lips, as if weighing how much detail to get into, and then settled with, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but what I do know is that I’ll spend every minute of every day making you feel how much I cherish you.”

And just like that, my world, which had tilted dangerously since the attack, seemed to right itself.

His gaze was an anchor, flooding my soul with the overwhelming relief that he was alive, his presence a promise of our future—his love the balm to my battered heart.

“Tell me it’s all over,” I whispered. “Tell me we get to leave the hospital together and put this all behind us.”

Hunter drew his fingers up to my temple and back down again, his stare a beautiful mix of hope and optimism.

“Thanks to you,” he said, “I think we have a decent shot at that.”

The conviction in his voice, the steadfast promise in his gaze—they were silent oaths to a shared dream of a life beyond the nightmare we’d just woken from.

CHAPTER73

Luna

Alexander didn’t deserve his nephews. Three of the Lockwood brothers carried his casket at the conclusion of the funeral to the waiting hearse while Hunter trailed behind, still healing from his injuries.

Though we’d been discharged with promises of a full recovery, the emotional scars ran deep.

My gaze flitted over to Hunter, who seemed lost in thought.

“You okay?” I asked, sensing the weight of the day as we drove to the cemetery.

Everything Hunter had learned about his uncle and the role he played in his father’s murder had to be weighing on his soul. And while it sounded like his father had been gearing up to do the right thing by confessing to the police his part in the hit-and-run of that teenager, it still fractured the perfect image Hunter had carried of his father for all these years.

It’s hard to let go of the innocence we once saw in someone.

Hunter paused. “I’ll be fine,” he murmured, “as long as I have you.”

I hoped he could find peace with this someday. As much peace as you can, given this terrible turn of events.

“It was nice to see your other two brothers again,” I said. “I wish it were under different circumstances.”

Hunter squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner, Luna. I’m sorry I left you and allowed my uncle the opportunity to get to you.”

“It’s not your fault,” I repeated. “I’m still in shock from everything your uncle did. Attacking us, letting an innocent man rot in prison, orchestrating the murder of your father and mine. Not to mention convincing your dad to leave a teenage boy to die.”

Hunter looked out the window as the ground rushed beneath our sedan’s tires.

“Looking back on it now, it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that he convinced my dad to go along with it,” Hunter said in a pained tone. “Even though they grew up in the same household, he and my father had very different views on the world. My father was grateful for our fortune, and he never saw us as better than other people because of it. My uncle, on the other hand…”

Must’ve seen that lower income teenage boy as less than.

“But him arranging my father’s murder”—Hunter scrubbed the side of his face—“the prosecutor in me gets it. People are capable of terrible things when it comes to saving their own ass. But the nephew in me…”

Would grapple with that for quite some time.

“I’m so sorry, Luna.” His voice cracked slightly. “I’m sorry it wasmyuncle who was responsible for your father rotting in prison for twenty years. For the suffering it caused you and your family. And that it was my uncle who had him killed.”

“Hunter…”

“And then to come after you…” Hunter hesitated. “If you hadn’t survived…” He glanced at the partition that separated us from the driver—his tone growing dangerously dark as he whispered, “I would have hunted every person who ever caused you an ounce of pain. Your ex. Every bully from school. Every acquaintance of Franco’s. I would have made a list and never stopped killing.”

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