Page 27 of Hunter's Game
“And my mother discovered your operation,” she said, careful to keep her voice steady.
“She discovered part of it,” he corrected. “Enough to be dangerous, not enough to understand the full scope. Much like you, my dear.”
Eden’s hand tightened on her weapon. “I understand enough.”
“Do you?” His smile was almost pitying. “Do you really think your evidence would have mattered? That exposing a few corrupt agents and stolen artifacts would bring down an organization that’s existed for centuries? That has resources and connections you can’t begin to imagine?”
As if to emphasize his point, more explosions rocked the building. But these weren’t from the Blind Jacks’ assault. These came from within the structure itself.
“Insurance policy,” Romano explained casually as pieces of ceiling began to fall. “In a few minutes, this entire building will collapse. Taking with it all evidence of Merrick’s operation, Thompson’s corruption, and of course, the tragicdeaths of a rogue federal agent and her outlaw lover.”
Eden met Hunter’s eyes across the chaos. In that moment, perfect understanding passed between them.
“You’re right.” She smiled, and Romano’s expression flickered slightly at what he saw in it. “The evidence here won’t matter. But the evidence I’ve already distributed to multiple secure locations? The proof of your organization’s existence that’s about to be released to every major law enforcement agency in the world? That might cause some problems.”
For the first time, uncertainty showed in Romano’s eyes. “You’re bluffing.”
“Am I?” Eden’s smile was pure predator now. “My mother taught me a lot of things before you had her killed. Want to know the most important lesson?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Always have a backup plan.”
The explosion that rocked the building this time wasn’t Romano’s insurance policy. It was Eden’s.
The next few minutes were chaos and gunfire and perfectly orchestrated destruction. Eden and Hunter moved like they’d been fighting together for years, covering each other as they fought their way clear of the collapsing building.
Behind them, Romano’s voice carried over the chaos. “You have no idea what you’ve just started!”
Eden’s laugh was pure adrenaline as they reached Hunter’s bike. “Oh, I think I do. Ready to help me burn it all down?”
His answering smile was fierce as they roared away from the destruction. “Born ready, baby.”
The night stretched ahead, full of possibilities and dangers. They’d struck the first blow against an organization that had existed in shadows for generations. Had exposed secrets that powerful people had killed to protect.
And somewhere in those shadows, Romano was already calling in resources, preparing for war.
Eden smiled into the wind as they rode. Let him come. She had something her mother never had: allies who understood the darkness, who were willing to fight fire with fire.
The war was just beginning.
And this time, she wasn’t fighting alone.
The Blind Jacks’ compound was nothing like the Devil’s Mark clubhouse. Where her father’s domain had been all chrome and leather, trying too hard to project power, this place felt solid. Earned. Real. The concrete walls carried scars from old battles, each mark telling a story of survival rather than intimidation.
Eden sat in Darkness’s office, watching Hunter pace while they waited for the MC president to finish dealing with the fallout from tonight’s operation. King, as the sergeant-at-arms, leaned against the wall, his dark eyes missing nothing as they waited for Darkness to join them.
Her father’s blood still stained her clothes. The harsh overhead lights emphasized the hollows beneath Eden’s cheekbones, the shadows under her eyes testifying to days without proper rest. Her dark hair was coming loose from its practical ponytail, strands framing a face that she imagined looked both vulnerable and dangerous in equal measure. She should feel something—grief, triumph, anything. Instead, she felt hollow, like someone had scooped out her insides and replaced themwith static.
The Blind Jacks compound hummed with activity around them. Patches moving with military precision as they secured the perimeter, prospects running communications equipment that looked more sophisticated than most federal installations. This wasn’t just a motorcycle club—it was a professional operation that happened to wear leather.
“Stop thinking so loud.” Hunter’s voice cut through her spiral. He stopped pacing to crouch in front of her chair, his hands warming her ice-cold ones. Up close, she could see the fresh bruises from their fight, the way he favored his left side where Thompson had landed a lucky hit. “You did what you had to do.”
“You did it, actually.” Her voice sounded distant to her own ears. “Shot my father while I was busy getting my ass kicked by a corrupt DEA agent.”
“Hey.” He squeezed her hands until she met his eyes. There was something dangerous and warm in his gaze that made her pulse quicken despite everything. The tactical light cast harsh shadows across the planes of his face, emphasizing the intensity in his blue eyes, the slight curve of his mouth that promised both violence and protection in equal measure. The tattoos visible beneath his rolled sleeves told stories of military service and brotherhood, the same ones she’d noticed that first night at the Devil’s Mark when he’d approached her bar.
Behind him, King cut a unreadable glance that she tried to ignore. “Thompson was Special Forces before he joined the DEA. The fact that you’re alive means you can handle yourself better than most trained operatives. And your father...”
