Page 49 of To Hunt A Wolf
Levi claimed not to want to see me hurt, but clearly that’s only because he was saving the job for himself.
My hope deflates like a popped balloon.
I’m so fucking screwed.
* * *
I haveno idea how long I sit in the darkness, only that it’s long enough to make friends with the shadows. When the door opens, I’m not relieved, though. Especially when I see that it’s Levi himself framed in the dimly lit opening. The sight of him jolts me—a thousand points of pain that prick all the way to my soul. Or what’s left of it. After rejecting me, I thought his betrayal couldn’t cut any deeper. I was wrong.
“You’re awake.” His voice is carefully controlled.
Mine, not so much. “Fuck. You.”
He ignores me and turns to someone behind him. “Bring it in.”
Another figure enters. One of his security team. Using the light coming in from the room beyond, I recognize his scent from their snatch-and-grab back on the highway. Not the one whose nose I broke, but there’s still time.
The guy wheels a small cart into the room and parks it near the wall, still just out of my reach. If my arms weren’t bound, that is. As it is, there’s no way I can reach either of them, no matter how close they stand. I know. I’ve tried. And I have the bloodied wrists to prove it.
The guard leaves without a word.
Levi remains.
The door shuts, sealing us both into complete darkness.
A second later, a light clicks on, and I look over in time to see a small switch on the wall near the cart. Then I’m forced to look away, blinking furiously until my eyes adjust to the sudden brightness.
Levi grabs a foldable chair from near the door and opens it.
He sits, facing me several feet away from my own chair.
His eyes are steady on mine. Assessing.
“Whatever you’re going to do to me, just fucking do it,” I snap.
“What do you think I’m going to do?”
“Besides kidnap me and tie me up? I don’t know. Torture. Kill. Whatever you want.”
At the last part, something in his eyes flares. A hunger that sends heat curling low in my belly. I bite my lip. Maybe “whatever he wants” is a little suggestive, but if his goal is torture, taking me while I’m unable to touch him in return would definitely top that list.
As soon as I have the thought, I curse myself and shove it away again. Now is not the time to want him. Now is the time to hate him. Or better yet, kick his ass and get myself the fuck out of his presence.
He blinks, and that hunger is gone.
“I don’t want to do any of this, Mac. But you left me no choice.”
“Excuse me? Are we victim-blaming now? How in the hell is any of this my fault?”
“You hunted me,” he says as if that somehow negates him taking me prisoner.
“You framed me for murder.”
Anguish flashes. Maybe even regret. Then, like the hunger, it’s gone.
“You’re in over your head,” he says quietly. “If I hadn’t brought you here, you would have gotten us both killed.”
“Brought me here?” I scoff. “You mean abducted me. Say the words, asshole.”
