Page 103 of Haunting the Hunter
A tear slips down my cheek at the memory.
“Open your eyes,” he says gently, thumb softly brushing away the tear.
I blink my eyes open and when I look down—the flower in my hand is fully bloomed.
I stare at it, stunned. The bloom is delicate. It’s beautiful.
“How did you know I could do that?” I whisper, barely trusting my own voice, my eyes still on the flower as I spin it gently between my fingers.
Alabaster steps closer, looking down at me with unreadable eyes. His fingers ghost over my palm, lifting the flower with care before he tucks it behind my ear, then lets his hand drift—trailing along my jaw, his thumb brushing the edge of my temple. A touch far too soft for someone who’s supposed to be untouchable.
“I didn’t,” he says, voice low and steady. “But it’s like I told you…” His eyes meet mine, and the usual sharpness is gone. Just him and those golden eyes.
“You’re capable of so much more than you think.”
CHAPTER 30
CADE
My chest heaves, each breath scraping through torn lungs as my body begs for sleep—but the pain denies me the escape I crave. Copper still clings to the back of my throat, thick and metallic, dripping like rust down my sinuses and burning as I swallow.
They only ever stop the torture at night. It’s quiet now—too quiet—so it must be late. A few hours, maybe, since the last round? I’ve lost count. I’ve lost everything but the rage simmering in my chest.
It seeps through me—my last ally in this hell. A slow, steady burn that holds the line, sharpening my thoughts as I claw through the haze, planning my inevitable escape.
I don’t knowhowI’m getting out of here. But I will. And when I do, I’m going to make every single one of those fuckers wish they’d killed me when they had the chance.
The door creaks open with a sound too soft to match the weight it carries.
My head lolls, barely able to lift, but I catch the voice. Fucking Benjamin.
“Hurry—he’s no good to us like this.”
He says it hastily and then Genevieve is moving to me, her body a hazy outline as I blink slowly.
Hands press to my chest, then I feel a vibration. A low hum at first, then a searing warmth blooms beneath my skin. It spreads—up my neck, down my arms, and across my stomach like wildfire licking through nerve endings.
The pounding in my head dulls then fades altogether.
I lift my gaze and lock eyes with Ben.
“I need you to listen, got it? I don’t have time to repeat myself.” His voice is sharp and steady, his eyes darting back toward the door.
I nod once—still dazed, the world slowly reassembling itself around me. The pain’s not gone, but something is stitching me back together. I can feel it—my skin knitting, torn muscle crawling into place. It stinks like burnt blood and charred flesh—and ithurts.
But it’s arelief.
“We’re doing this fast and quiet.” He pulls out a handgun—a sleek, silenced 10mm pistol with an extended clip—and places it on my lap. Then he’s at my wrists, cutting the ropes, my heavy arms falling limply to my sides.
“Your buddy’s smart. He contacted me,” Ben informs me quietly as he bends to work my ankles free.
My eyes snap open again. “Jack?” I say, barely above a whisper. Of course.
My body keeps heating, the feeling almost unbearable now. My chest feels like it’s on fire, like something inside me is boiling, and I let out a hissing breath.
“I can’t go further right now,” Genevieve says, pulling her hands away. The heat leaves with her, sudden and jarring. “It’s too much at once. We’ll have to do this in sessions.”
Ben leans in, eyes steady on my own, appraising. “Ready?”
