Page 126 of Inside the Sun

There’s a long stretch of silence before it finally opens… and there he is.

Hunter.

I’m shocked at how much he’s changed since I last saw him during Olaf’s funeral. He used to be ridiculously jacked, obsessed with working out. Even as a purple alpha, with my naturally fast muscle growth, I wasn’t far ahead of him in terms of size.

Now, most of that is gone. Sure, he’s still muscular, but it’s a different kind.

Leaner. Stringier. Like his body’s made of tightly pulled knots of muscle.

His face is pale, and the circles under his eyes are nearly black, as if he hasn’t slept in weeks.

Unfortunately I can smell the alcohol odor in the air. Heavy. It soaked into the walls. That smell alone puts me on edge.

"Ragnar," he says in a flat, mechanical voice, like it takes him a second to recognize me.

His eyes are hollow. His face… completely still. A mask.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, like I’m invading enemy territory.

I sigh, already losing patience.

"I’ve got a few things I need to talk about."

"I’m not in the mood for a conversation, Ragnar."

He starts to close the door, but no. That’s enough. I grunt angrily and put my hand on the door, stopping it. He curses under his breath and backs off, giving up on trying to fight me.

I step inside.

"What the hell is going on with you, Hunter?"

He doesn’t answer. Just walks farther down the hallway.

I follow him into the living room. It’s stylish, but the stench of alcohol is even stronger here, and I wrinkle my nose.

Hunter drops onto the couch. He’s wearing a stretched-out military T-shirt and black shorts. There’s a week’s worth of reddish stubble on his face.

After a moment’s hesitation, I sit next to him and stare at his pale profile.

The silence between us is deep. Heavy.

"It’s been almost ten months, Hunter. It’s time to start living again."

I see his chest rise with a deeper breath, but his face doesn’t change.

"That’s exactly why I didn’t want to see anyone," he says, voice dry. "Because I don’t want to hear any more motivational crap about how life goes on and how things can still be amazing."

His face stays expressionless. He stares blankly toward the glass wall, into the overgrown backyard.

"Hunter, are you seeing anyone? Are you going to therapy? Sometimes even just a conversation—"

"Did you come here for something specific, Ragnar?" he cuts in sharply.

I press my lips together. Hunter’s whole energy feels almost hostile, like he wants me to get the hell out and never come back.

"Yeah… I’ve made some progress. I know where Summer is."

I say it, but I’m not even sure he cares.

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