Page 30 of Hunter's Game
“Get used to it.” He tightened his arms around her. “You’re not alone anymore.”
She knew there would be consequences. Knew that whatever was building between them could destroy them both. But for now, she let herself believe in dangerous words like “we” and “us” and “together.”
Tomorrow they would start hunting Romano. Tomorrow they would begin planning the biggest heist of their lives. Tomorrow they would face all the complications and consequences of their choices.
But tonight? Tonight she would let herself have this—warmth and safety and the illusion that love didn’t always end in blood.
Even if they both knew better.
Through the compound’s walls, she could hear motorcycles returning from patrol, the steady rhythm of a club that operated like a military unit. Her laptop hummed quietly in the corner, decrypting more of Thompson’s files while tracking Romano’s movements through various surveillance systems.
“What are you thinking?” Hunter’s voice was soft in the darkness.
“That my mother would either be proud or horrified.” Eden traced a scar on his chest, wondering about its story. “Probably both.”
“She’d be proud.” His certainty surprised her. “You found the truth she died protecting. Found people willing to help you expose it.”
“Found you.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.
His hand stilled on her shoulder for a moment. Then he shifted, rolling them so he could look down at her. The predator was back in his eyes, but there was something else there too—something that made her breath catch.
“Found me,” he agreed, then kissed her like he was making a promise.
Later, as false dawn began to paint the sky, Eden lay awake watching Hunter sleep. In the gentle light, she could see past the dangerous outlaw to the man beneath—the warrior who understood her darkness, who chose to fight beside her despite every reason not to.
Her phone buzzed quietly. A message from one of her automated systems, tracking movements that suggested Romano was already gathering resources for retaliation.
“Time to wake up.” She brushed her lips across Hunter’s shoulder. “War’s starting.”
His eyes opened immediately, alert despite the early hour. “Ready for this?”
Eden smiled, the same sharp expression that had first caught his attention across a crowded bar that felt like a lifetime ago. “Born ready.”
They dressed efficiently, the warmth and emotions stirred by a night of making love set aside in favor of a warrior’s routine. By the time they reached King’s office, the first reports were coming in—Romano moving pieces into position, calling in favors from powerful people.
“Let him come.” Hunter’s hand settled on her lower back as they studied the intelligence. “This time, we’re ready.”
Eden leaned into his touch, letting herself believe in possibility rather than tragedy. In victory rather than vengeance.
In “us” rather than alone.
The war was about to begin. Eden studied Hunter’s profile in the blue glow of computer screens—the strong line of his jaw, the watchful eyes that missed nothing, the controlled power in every movement. Whatever was coming, they would face it together.
And this time, she had something worth fighting for.
Eden woke to unfamiliar warmth and the steady rhythm of Hunter’s heartbeat under her ear. For one disorienting moment, she forgot everything—her father’s death, Romano’s threats, the price on both their heads. Then reality crashed back, and she tensed.
“Too early for plotting murder,” Hunter mumbled against her hair, his arm tightening around her. “Give it at least another hour.”
Despite everything, Eden felt her lips twitch. “Says the man who sleeps with a gun under his pillow.”
“Two guns.” He cracked one eye open to look down at her. “And three knives. Professional habit.”
She reached up to stroke a finger across his square jaw. “Only three? I’m disappointed.” She started to sit up, realizing she was falling down into a place she’d never climb out of if she stayed there any longer, but he pulled her back down.
She didn’t have the heart to drag herself away.
“We’ve got time.” His voice was rough with sleep and something darker. “Darkness won’t expect usuntil—”
