Page 32 of Silent Vendetta (Vendetta Duet)

“Don’t move this, Luna,” I said in a stern voice as I put the headphones back over her ears.

“Hunter, don’t,” she said.

“Please, man, don’t…”

His words were cut off by the gurgling blood spilling from his neck as I dragged the blade from his left ear to his right.

I didn’t even get to appreciate it, savor it as much as I’d dreamed I could when I first brought him down here. And it irritated me that I’d have to cut his hands off and tongue outpost-mortem; I’d been looking forward to doing that while he was still alive, punishing him for having laid hands on her, and the vile things he’d said to her.

As Franco’s heart took its last beat, the room fell silent, save for the soft drip of blood on the cold cement floor. Time seemed to stretch, and then, with a sense of resignation, I retrieved my cell phone and dialed.

“It’s me,” I said. “I need you. How fast can you get here?”

CHAPTER17

Luna

“Don’t leave me down here.” I hated the pleading tone in my voice.

Hunter’s silhouette paused as he turned his chin over his shoulder to look at me.

Franco Hopkin’s corpse sat beneath a white satin sheet draped over him to protect my eyes from the carnage, but his form jutted against it, crimson spreading through the shiny fibers, like an infection reaching for me. The smell of his blood was now so pungent, that it lingered in my mouth and swirled bile in my stomach.

“Please don’t leave me with a dead body.”

“I’ll remove him shortly.”

He took another step.

“Look, I’m not sure how long you plan to keep me, but I can’t sit on this stone floor any longer. I need to use the bathroom, and I’d like to clean off my sweat and dried blood.” Ideally, ice my aching body more, too.

Franco Hopkins’s blood stretched another half inch outward.

Hunter turned around and stared at me, his fingers twitching at his sides as distant waterdrops splatted on the concrete.

I wondered if he thought I was plotting an escape, but this time, I wasn’t. I just wanted to get out of this hellhole of blood and death.

He stepped back into this room, retrieved a knife, and locked his cold, unwavering gaze with mine. Before delicately drawing the blade between my wrists. It wasn’t lost on me how one change of the angle and this admitted serial killer could end my life, but he yanked up, snapping the zip tie.

My wrists jolted apart in freedom.

Hunter towered over me with his deltoids, watching me try to stand up.

Not an easy task, it turned out. The hell that my body had been through was catching up to me, my bones and joints aching with every move. I was exhausted and beyond done with this entire situation.

“You’re in pain.” A crease formed between Hunter’s brows as I finally rose.

Hunter scrubbed his jaw, his lips tugging up before he nodded his chin toward his dungeon tube.

“Come on.”

The dampness of the tunnel settled around us, making the hairs on my arms stand on end with the chilling draft that whispered his secrets.

As I trudged along behind Hunter, my body ached with each step from the car wreck. Hunter stopped, his eyes lingering on my wincing face.

“I’ll try to go faster,” I assured.

With a steadying breath, his body, previously coiled with the predator’s readiness, relaxed, replaced by an almost-imperceptible lean toward me. If I didn’t know better, I would swear it wasn’t from impatience; the softening of his gaze looked like he couldn’t stand seeing me suffer like this—like it yanked at the invisible threat tied around his heart. And that he also yearned to close the space between us.

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