Page 158 of Ravaged Soul
Gunnar Slaughter.
So much for our perimeter.
The Hunter is cut beneath dark jeans and a black, military-style weapons vest over a muscle tee. He’s the same height and build as Axel but somehow lighter on his feet—a deft, deadly ballerina who picks through the shattered glass to get a better look at us all.
“Your security is lacking,” he announces casually. “If you’re going to guard the street, put men on the roof too. It’s a glaringly obvious exposure point.”
Once-purple hair is now a shock of spiked chocolate-brown, removing the identifiable feature he used to dupe me. But his boyish features, full lips and matching eyes are a dead giveaway. He’s a breathing replica of our Axel.
Everyone has moved as one, taking attack positions and quickly drawing weapons. Warner rises above me to spin and face our newest arrival.
“Was it necessary to break into the building?” Blaine drops his lit cigarette to warily approach us.
“Yes.” Gunnar cocks his head, his orange-hued gaze unsettlingly cold and appraising. “I don’t answer to your patrolling guard dogs, Phantom.”
A shiver snakes its way down my spine, nodule by nodule. Fuck, even his baritone is light and lilting, a carbon copy of the twin standing not so far away. Axel is ashen, stiller than a corpse while assessing his long-lost brother.
Gunnar casts an analytical look over us all, one by one. He lingers on me, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly. I take the hand up that Warner offers, wincing when my bruises twinge from the hard landing.
When his icy stare touches the brother who lied to conceal his existence, Gunnar’s posture changes. He doesn’t seem to have much visible emotional range, but his legs spread, shoulders squaring in clear preparation.
“Brother.” He nods tersely.
With a telltale gulp, Axel takes a single step forward. “Brother.”
“It’s been a long time.”
“Not long enough. What do you want?”
Glancing between them reveals a whole roster of differences. Axel can’t hide a single thought or feeling that crosses his mind. It seems his brother has the opposite problem. His identical features are disturbingly blank, failing to betray a single clue.
With a chilling smile, Gunnar slides a long, terrifyingly sharp hunting knife from his vest. Not even the guns being trained on him by Hyland, Spyder and Raye seem to provoke any hesitation. He acts like the rest of the room is invisible.
“I was summoned.” His shoulder twitches in dismissal.
“In London,” Axel clarifies.
“Ah. I had business to tend to.”
“And that’s what we’d like to discuss.” Warner remains in front of me, taking over the conversation. “A business proposition.”
Still, Gunnar ignores him. He may as well not even exist.
“Why didn’t you listen to her?”
Inching out of his corner, Axel calmly spreads his hands. “Who?”
“Meredith.”
I watch a shudder snap over Axel, almost shaking his knees. “What about her?”
“She told you to run.” Gunnar’s words are clipped. “Yet here you stand.”
“How do you know about that?”
The twisted look of pure contempt and disgust on Gunnar’s face fills me with a very bad feeling. What we’re witnessing isn’t the kind of hatred you can talk through. He looks physically repulsed by his twin.
“I’ve been privy to every conversation you’ve ever had with the woman who birthed us, brother mine. Every phone call. Every email. Every visitation request. Every time you neglected to mention the person you both cast aside while happily catching up.”
