Page 117 of Haunted

“Why does it matter?”

The words come out rougher than I intended. My heart pounds against my ribs like it’s trying to escape, to flee from whatever her answer might be.

“Why?” I step closer, my voice rising. “Because you need material for your exposé? Because you’re still that same woman who came into my club looking to destroy me?”

“No, Xavier?—”

“Then why?” I’m almost shouting now. “Why does knowing how deep the corruption goes matter if you’re not planning to use it against me?”

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t retreat even as I tower over her. The computer screen casts harsh shadowsacross her face, highlighting the determination in her eyes.

“Because I’m falling in love with you.”

My breath catches, my entire world tilting on its axis.

“And I need to know what that means,” she continues. “I need to know if I’m falling for someone who bends rules or if I’m falling for someone who destroys lives.”

The vulnerability in her confession strips away every defense I’ve built. She’s not asking as a journalist. She's asking as a woman terrified of what she's feeling, desperate to understand the man who's claimed not only her body but territory infinitely more dangerous—her heart.

“You want the truth?” My voice is barely above a whisper now, all the fight bleeding out of me. “You want to know what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

She nods.

“Alright.” I move to the window, putting distance between us before the words tear me apart. “You want the truth about what I am? I deal drugs, Mira. Cocaine, heroin, fentanyl—anything that moves through this city has my fingerprints on it.”

Her sharp intake of breath cuts through the silence, but I can’t stop now. The floodgates are open.

“I launder money through a dozen legitimate businesses. Art galleries, real estate ventures, and restaurants. Half of Ravenwood’s economy runs on blood money that’s been cleaned through my operations.”

I turn to face her, watching the color drain from her cheeks as each confession lands like a physical blow.

“And I’ve killed people, Mira. Not in some distant war or act of self-defense. I’ve put bullets in men’s heads because they crossed my family. I’ve extracted information from people who thought they could steal from us. I’ve ordered executions and watched them carried out.”

She grips the edge of my desk, her knuckles white as the full weight of what I am settles over her. The investigative side of her wanted the story. Still, the woman falling in love with me is realizing she’s been sleeping with a monster.

“You look like you’re going to be sick.” The observation comes out flat and emotionless. It’s easier than acknowledging the way her horror cuts through me like a blade.

“That’s what you wanted to know, isn’t it? That’s the devil you’ve been sharing a bed with.”

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. Her face has gone completely pale, and I can practically see her mind racing, trying to reconcile the man who held her tenderly last night with the killer standing before her now.

“What about the women? Don’t tell me you have no idea what happens to the missing women in the Ravenwood Hollow. I knew Monica Talbit from school. We met in second grade, and she disappeared two years ago. When I was digging, her brother said she participated two years ago.”

My fists clench at my sides, knuckles going whiteas I struggle to contain the rage threatening to erupt. I take a measured breath, forcing my lungs to expand fully before I speak. Control. Always control.

“We. DO NOT. Traffic. Human. Beings.” Each word comes out like a bullet. “That isn’t an act we would ever participate in or even allow to be run through this town.” My jaw tightens to the point of pain. “Is that who you think I am after everything between us?”

Mira blinks up at me, that familiar defiance etched across her features. The disdain in her eyes cuts deeper than it should. I never thought for a moment that our relocation program—a courtesy we extend to any prey who feels they cannot return to their former life—would spawn rumors of human trafficking. The mere suggestion makes my blood boil.

“Is that what you think?” My voice comes out frayed at the edges, control slipping for the first time in years.

She sits silent for a long minute, and I can practically see the gears turning behind those hazel eyes. Always analyzing, always questioning. I give her time to respond, to say anything that might indicate she doesn’t believe I’m capable of such reprehensible actions.

The Hunt is one thing—a game with rules, boundaries, consent, however twisted that consent might be. No one is ever intentionally harmed. Ever. We’ve had several prey over the years who wanted a fresh start elsewhere after the Hunt, but that was never accomplished by selling them like fucking cattle.

“Tell me you don’t believe that, Mira.” My voice drops dangerously low. “Miss Talbit was relocated. Shewanted to live her life on her terms elsewhere. And we gave her the ability to do that.”

Her brows furrow, and I watch her mind working through the reality she never entertained—that we might not be complete monsters after all.

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