Page 54 of His to Hunt

My jaw ticks once, slow and deliberate. "Who else knows?"

"Right now? Just the inner circle. They're not taking this lightly, Beck. Someone thinks this was intentional."

I don't respond immediately. I know how they think. I know how they handle problems. And this? This isn't a problem. It's a threat to their illusion of control. And they don't tolerate that.

Sebastian sighs into the phone. "What do you want me to tell Preston?"

I tap my fingers, considering. I can still hear her in the hallway—her footsteps, her breathing. I can feel the echo of her body in my hands—warm, responsive, dangerous.

I don't even know her last name.

"Tell him I'll handle it."

Another beat of silence.

"You sure?" The concern in his voice is unfamiliar territory.

"No," I say, honesty slipping through the cracks. "But I will."

I hang up before he can say anything else, my fingers flexing around the phone like they want to break it.

The world I built runs on precision. Clean lines. Absolute control. There are no variables. No surprises. And now I've brought one into the center of it.

I look toward the hallway. The bedroom door is still closed. I wonder if she's listening. I wonder if she knows the storm that's coming. I don't move for a moment, just stand there in the silence, the heat of my body still chasing the chill that settled the second Sebastian said those words.

Trying to figure out why I suddenly seem to… care. The idea alone unsettles me.

With a quick motion, I toss the phone onto the counter, pace once, then grab it again and hit a different contact.

My PI answers on the second ring.

"Mr. Sinclair."

"I want her name." My voice cuts through pleasantries like they never existed.

"Yes, sir. I have it." The efficient response.

This is why I pay him the obscene amount that I do. Because I rarely need to wait.

I brace my hand against the counter.

"Her name is Luna Laurent. Twenty-four. Daughter of Adam and Elise Laurent. Old money."

My spine stiffens. Laurent. The name carries weight even I can feel.

"Go on." My voice remains steady despite the revelation.

"She wasn't the one scheduled to attend. The invitation belonged to her sister—Genevieve Laurent. From what I gathered, the family had been preparing Genevieve for an arrangement. Possibly a placement with one of the Collectors."

I don't move. Not an inch. The pieces are slotting together in ways I hadn't anticipated.

It also makes sense why it took so long for someone to notice. Sisters tend to look alike. And with a mask…

"She took the invitation," the PI continues, clinical in his delivery. "Used it to enter the Hunt under false pretenses."

"She planned it." The words taste different on my tongue—admiration mingling with something darker. Confirmation she was more clever than she let on when I'd asked her before.

"She executed it," he corrects. "I'd call that something more than a spontaneous mistake."

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