Page 39 of Hunter's Game
“Insurance policy,” Katherine called over the gunfire. “This wing sits on top of old maintenance tunnels. Tunnels that are now rigged to collapse in exactly sixty seconds.”
Eden met Hunter’s eyes across the room. In that moment, every lie, every betrayal, every complicated emotion between them condensed into a single truth: they were out of time.
What surprised her was the trust she saw in his expression—not questioning her loyalty despite the chaos unfolding around them, not demanding explanations as bullets flew. Instead, his eyes held steady confidence in her judgment, even knowing the impossible choice before her.
“Eden!” His voice carried over the chaos. “Choose!”
The word wasn’t a demand but an acknowledgment, recognition that whatever decision she made would be strategically sound, even if it appeared incomprehensible to everyone else.
She had seconds to decide. Her father was closest, already moving toward an exit. Romano was somehow still alive, Katherine’s men keeping him contained but not killing him. And Hunter.
Hunter was fighting his way toward her, trust and desperation warring in his eyes.
The floor shuddered again. Pieces of ceiling began to fall.
Eden made her choice.
She fired three shots in rapid succession, each one changing the game completely. Then she ran, leaving chaos and betrayal in her wake.
Behind her, the floor finally gave way, swallowing millions in artifacts and years of carefully laid plans. Ahead lay uncertainty and the growing knowledge that nothing would ever be simple again.
And somewhere in between, Hunter’s voice followed her into the darkness. “That’s my girl.”
The words carried no possession, only recognition. Acknowledgment of her strategy when everyone else would see only betrayal. In the weeks they’d worked together, he’d become the first person since her mother who could anticipate her thinking, who understood the necessary sacrifices behind her decisions.
She smiled as she ran, tasting blood and victory and the bitter sweetness of necessary betrayal. The knowledge that someone understood her choices without explanation was as dangerous as it was exhilarating—a complication she hadn’t planned for but couldn’t bring herself to regret.
The war wasn’t over. It was just beginning.
And this time, everyone would burn.
Power has a way of changing those who wield it. Eden felt a subtle technological response as she examined the artifacts they’d stolen, each tablet displaying faint indicators that seemed to react to her proximity. The specialized sensors embedded in the ancient-looking objects appeared to be detecting something unique in her genetic makeup.
The Blind Jacks’ secure room was lined with lead and copper—Katherine’s suggestion for containing whatever forces they were dealing with.
“The biometric readings are off the charts. These pieces aren’t just responsive to our genetic markers, they’re actively adapting to our presence. The embedded nanotechnology seems specifically calibrated to our DNA sequences.”
“Waiting to help control complex systems?” Hunter’s voice carried careful skepticism as he maintained guard position. “Or waiting to compromise whoever tries accessing them?”
“Both. Neither.” Eden traced patterns that seemed to shift under her fingers. “These aren’t just tools. They’re more like...neural interfaces. Advanced technological systemsdesigned to respond to specific genetic markers that appear in certain family lineages.”
“Something dangerous.” Hunter moved closer, his hand settling on her lower back in a touch that carried heat despite the tension. The overhead lighting emphasized the strong planes of his face—the slight cleft in his chin, the intensity in his steel-blue eyes, and the thin scar running along his jawline that whitened slightly when he clenched his teeth in concentration.
His tactical clothing couldn’t disguise the powerful frame beneath—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, with forearms marked by intricate tattoos visible where he’d rolled up his sleeves to help with the equipment setup.
Despite the controlled vigilance in his posture, his touch against her remained gentle, the calluses on his fingers revealing years of both combat training and mechanical work.
“Judging by how many people Romano’s willing to kill to control it.”
Eden leaned into his touch slightly, letting his solid presence ground her as she felt a renewed sense of focus and determination. The Mitchell family connection seemed to give her a unique advantage when working with these artifacts. “Romano doesn’t understand what he’s dealing with. He thinks these artifacts are weapons—ways to accumulate power and influence.”
“But they’re really about balance.” Katherine’s voice carried certainty as she examined readouts.Katherine adjusted settings on the monitoring equipment, her movements economical and precise. Where Eden carried herself with the coiled readiness of a field operative, Katherine moved with the controlled grace of someone who’d learned to appear unthreatening while maintaining perfect situational awareness.
Her features—similar to Eden’s in structure but softer in expression—remained composed even as excitement colored her voice. Katherine’s dark hair fell around her face and framed analytical eyes slightly darker than Eden’s, while her hands showed the careful manicuring of someone who’d maintained a professional appearance as carefully as she’d maintained her cover identity.
“Sarah’s research suggests they were designed as a safeguard system,” Katherine explained. “A way to prevent any single organization from gaining too much control. To maintain balance between competing powers.”
“Which is why they respond to our specific biometric signatures,” Eden added as understanding clicked into place. “People like us weren’t recruited to build empires...”
