Page 20 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

Why did my stomach twist at the thought of Hunter dying? It had to be nerves. That’s all it was. And exhaustion at the prospect of another deadly battle.

Plus, if Franco got free, he’d kill me too.

Rising, my arms embraced the cold, rough pole as I strained, the plastic biting my flesh. I lifted my gaze to where the cement column met the ceiling.

Hoping it had hidden cracks, I grabbed the pole with both arms like an angry hug and started yanking against the rough concrete. Grunting and working through the pain of every jerk. Between the accident and Franco’s beating, my body felt like a car had run it over. Every tug felt like someone was taking a baseball bat to my bones, but I didn’t stop. I tried over two dozen times until I ran out of energy.

When that failed, I scrutinized the walls, the floor, and the ceiling, but nothing helpful was within reach.

I sank to the cold ground again, my eyes welling with tears just before footsteps echoed through the tunnel.

Hunter’s silhouette emerged, carrying a water bottle, an orange, pretzels, and something wrapped in paper.

He was seriously going to make us take a damn snack break?

“Time’s running out,” I said with an edge. “Rinaldi’s expecting me at the hospital, and Mayor Kepler is expecting my call to reschedule the meeting I missed.”

My last message to the mayor flashed in my mind, saying I thought the Vigilante might be someone I knew. We were to meet, but Franco abducted me.

“One step at a time.” Hunter placed the food on the ground and twisted the cap off the plastic water bottle.

As soon as he did, my dry throat screamed at me, begging for relief from this painful thirst. But when he handed it to me, I couldn’t get it to my mouth. My wrists were tied in front of the pole, so no matter which angle I tried, reaching my mouth to it proved impossible.

Hunter squatted in front of me, his intimidating presence looming over my weakened body as he took the bottle back and brought it to my lips. I wanted to resist his help, repulsed by his mere existence, but the overwhelming thirst was beyond my control. Reluctantly, I opened my mouth and tilted my head back.

A burst of cold on my tongue soothed the raw burn of my throat.

“Easy,” Hunter said, slowing the pour.

I took a few deep gulps before Hunter pulled the bottle away.

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze fixated on the droplet of water on my lip, and then slowly, he raised his hand. His thumb grazed my lower lip gently, swiping up the fallen droplet.

The whisper of contact sent a jolt through me, making my heart skip a beat, and the warmth of his touch lingered, a sensation that ignited a rush of memories from better times. The surge of longing that came over me was unwelcome; it felt like my body had betrayed me, yearning for the Hunter I once knew, even after everything.

Hunter paused, his hand suspended in the air between us while his gaze deepened, his eyes looking more like a storm than sapphires. Subtle lines creased the corners of his eyes, and a shadow crossed his face, suggesting an unseen burden weighing on him.

His eyes traveled from my parted lips to meet my gaze, searching, perhaps hoping for a hint of the tenderness we once shared. The silence that elapsed between us felt charged, a reminder of the chasm that now lay between us.

“I brought you anti-inflammatories.” He opened his palm to reveal four pills.

“Probably poison.”

He glowered at me.

“It’ll help with your pain.”

Right. Which could help me get away should I get the chance. And hell, if he wanted to poison me, he could spray my face with it, and I wouldn’t be able to stop it. So fine.

I opened my mouth and let him place the pills in. Let him follow it with a chug of water so I could swallow them better.

The moment he began to peel the orange, a burst of its zest filled the air, the zingy citrus aroma wafting toward me, sharp and intoxicating. My empty stomach churned in response, my mouth watering, longing for the succulence it promised.

But when he brought a piece to my lips, I clenched my mouth shut. Reversing dehydration and reducing inflammation were medical things. Having a snack was different—like a dungeon picnic.

“You need to eat, Luna.”

My stomach unleashed a desperate growl, and my eyes betrayed me with tears.

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