Page 12 of Haunting the Hunter
I exhale, the weight of my own words twisting something in my gut. Why do I care so much that she believes? Why do I feel the need to protect that belief, even if I don’t buy into any of it myself?
Damn, these fucking dreams are getting to me.
The truth is, I don’t understand what she sees—but for the first time, I want to… And that scares the shit out of me.
I exhale, steadying the sharpness in my voice.
“That’s what I used to think and maybe I still do. But now… I get why.” Taking a breath, I try again. “After everything, I don’t blame you. I see you need this. You have to believe there’s something bigger, something that makes all of this have meaning.”
I pause, my voice lowering. For all that I am, I do genuinely care for Calli. Hell, I’m doing this all for her. So I continue, trying to see things the way she does. “I won’t pretend I believe it, but I won’t tear it down, either. Not if it’s what’s keeping you alive.”
She looks up and her eyes are glistening—but she’s not quite crying.
“I guess that’s the closest thing to support I’ll get from you.” She forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. There’s a flash of something else—disappointment, or maybe resignation. Like she hoped for more, even though she knows better.
“Probably,” I say seriously.
I’ve seen her cracks; I know how deep they go. And for the first time in years, I don’t feel angry about it. I feel responsible.
“I just don’t want to feel alone,” she says, lowering her head.
“You have Jack.”
“That’s not what I mean, Cade… I want in,” she says stubbornly.
“You’re not coming with me.”
“Then share what you know. Don’t lock me out. I promise I won’t get in your way.”
I hesitate but she stares me down. A small sense of something akin to pride wells in my chest, even though I’d prefer her to stay out of my way. She’s not budging on this.
“You’ll take what I give you. Stay out of Jack’s way. And stop calling me every hour like I’m going to vanish.”
She smirks, victorious. “I can accept that—for now. So… how did it go?”
After feeding her only the bare bones, I leave her and head to Jack’s office.
He’s not there. I sink into his chair, the cushion exhaling under my weight. His monitors glow—multiple news feeds, satellite footage, and his usual mess of surveillance chaos. I glance over it, but I’m not really paying attention. My thoughts are still stuck in that moment with Calli.
The way she looked at me, like if I didn’t validate her belief in something, she’d vanish. And maybe that’s what’s fucking with me the most, because that look? It’s the same one I’ve seen in the mirror more times than I care to admit. She’s not the only one clinging to something just to survive; I’ve just gotten better at pretending mine doesn’t exist.
And the worst part? I can’t stop thinking that maybe she’s right…
Jack walks in with a bag of spicy chips, crunching one before he even speaks.
“All right, so… don’t be mad,” he starts, voice casual, like he didn’t just leave me alone with ghosts in my head.
I raise a brow, unimpressed.
“I had eyes on Allen up until this morning, then he ghosted. No pings—he just went dark.”
What the fuck.“You let him slip.”
“Hey, I didn’t let shit slip! The guy probably flew to L.A., got into a private estate with Order ties, and left nothing behind,” he defends, like the fucker didn’t just let this monster slip through the cracks.
I lean forward, scanning the monitors now as footage rolls, blurry at the edges. Locations that don’t mean anything to me yet. Jackkeeps talking, detailing guard rotations, escape patterns, the logistics I usually live for—but my mind is slipping.
My eyes catch on one of the monitors. The color is all wrong. Too blue. Too bright. The letters begin to bleed at the edges. I blink, but it doesn’t stop.
