Hunting Her Box Set

Decker

I sit on the back deck, the beer can now warm in my hand after hours spent staring at the setting sun. I can’t go back inside, and it’s not only because my brother’s house is now filled with the smell of vomit.

I can’t stand to look at her. I can’t keep questioning the facts just because of her pleading blue-eyed gaze. So I’ll continue to hide out here, drowning in doubt.

I’m not worried she’ll run. I’m too fucking drained to give a shit. But even if she does, we’re miles from civilization. More than a day’s trek to salvation if she has hopes of escaping.

All the external doors are locked except for the one a few feet to my right. She’s caged. Unless she decides to climb through a window, which I have no doubt she will. In that case, I’ll hear her and have another chance for retribution once I chase her down.

I think that’s the only thought keeping me upright—the possibility of sprinting after her, scaring her, punishing her.

There’s no sound out here. Not even the whimsical chirp of a bird. There’s only the breeze rustling through the dried grass and the heavy beat of my pulse echoing in my ears.

I never should’ve told her about my sister. I hate her having insight into that part of my life. But those words had burst free, demanding to be heard. After all this time, I wanted someone to know the truth.

My life changed the moment I realized Pe

Now there’s no hiding the darkness shadowing me, or the crimes I’ve committed to get here.

I’m not the man I once was. That happy-go-lucky fucker is gone. The naive sack of shit who lived a simple life is dead and buried. And I guess the guy I became soon will be too, but that shit won’t be a metaphor.

My days are numbered. The finish line to failure is fast advancing, and I have no clue how to stop its approach.

I raise my beer and take a long pull. I don’t know where to go from here. I’m not sure there’s a way out, or if I’d even take it if there is. I’ve spent years seeking answers. Striving for revenge. I no longer know how to live any other way.

Footsteps approach from inside, and I lower my drink to listen. Her figure cuts through the yellow light beaming through the glass panes of the door. Her presence tickles the back of my fucking neck.

Don’t come out here.

Don’t you fucking dare.

The door opens and she slowly steps outside, walking to the railing to look out over the vast expanse of vacant land as she clings to the cuffs of her cardigan.

She remains quiet, her silence eating up the night until it feels like I’ve been staring at her for hours.

“How long?” she whispers.

I take another mouthful of beer and drag my gaze from her slender body. I hate the attraction that lingers when I look at her. I fucking loathe it after everything she’s done.

She turns to face me, her face blotchy with the remnants of crocodile tears.

I won’t be fooled. Not again.

“How long have you been trying to take down my family?”

“Why?” I glare. “What cu

“I want to help.”

“Help?” I scoff. “Go back inside. You’re wasting your breath talking to me.”

She lowers her gaze, playing a meek, apologetic role that doesn’t suit her. Not anymore.

“Then why tell me? Why am I here?”

I can’t answer that. I honestly don’t know.

Originally, I feared for Hunter and Sarah’s safety. At least that’s what I told myself, even though I know better than anyone that those two can look after themselves.

I guess I’d wanted to prove Hunter wrong.

I knew he believed Keira had set me up. But, Jesus, I’d hoped like hell he’d been smoking crack, too.

The whole drive here I hated on her, despising every fucking breath, while also wishing she’d do or say something to prove Hunt wrong. That somehow he’d been mistaken. That I hadn’t been fooled into falling for her.

“I didn’t tell you anything you didn’t already know.” I take another chug of beer to drown my pity party.

She leans back against the railing, her hands resting behind her ass. Calm. Subdued. “What do you plan on doing with me?”

“Whatever I like,” I grate. “And the more you a

Her chin hitches. “You won’t kill me, Sebastian. I know you won’t. You’ve said it yourself, you’re not like my brother, and I know that wasn’t a lie.”

“Do you?” I’m not entirely sure she’s right. If given the chance, I’d kill her father. I’d kill her uncle as well. And despite her claims of Cole’s i

I could massacre her entire family and dance a fucking jig in their blood. I wouldn’t care how I had to do it. With my bare hands. Up close or from a distance. With a knife or a bullet or a fucking frying pan.

I’m at the point where I’d pay good money to look deep into the eyes of those motherfuckers while I revel in their pleas for mercy.

“Are you seriously that confident I wouldn’t bury you out here if I had proof of your involvement?”

“But you don’t,” she murmurs. “And you never will, because I’m not involved. Neither are Layla or Cole, and I’d bet my life on it.”

I raise my brows. “You might regret that wager one day.”

“I won’t. I don’t have the slightest doubt.”

“Give it time. Earlier you were certain your uncle and father weren’t involved either.”

She lowers her attention to the wooden slats of the porch. “That’s different. Layla is too kindhearted to even imagine doing something like this. And Cole…”

“And Cole what?” I sneer. “Is he kindhearted, too? Have you forgotten he tried to strangle you the first night we met?”

Her gaze darts to mine, her mouth parting on a confession that doesn’t breach her lips.

“Go on, say it,” I taunt. “Weave me another bedtime story.”

She sighs, her shoulders slumping with the deep exhale. “Cole never tried to strangle me.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what would you call it?”

“A ritual. An act.” She keeps clinging to the cuffs of her cardigan, pulling on them like a lifeline. “Whenever someone new comes to work for my family, Cole and I put on a show to pretend we have a temperamental relationship—a weak spot that could be manipulated. It’s an easy way to flush out those trying to tear us apart. But the truth is the opposite.”

I frown, reliving that night in my mind. She’d been scared. Cole had been in a rage.

It was all for show.

Fuckers.

“He tells me everything, Sebastian. He has since our mother died. I know how you came to work for us. I know about the hits my brother has ordered and why. I know where our money comes from and how it’s laundered. I know everything.”

I throw back my beer and take a long pull, emptying the can. “So, you act like a docile puppet when you’re really a coldhearted bitch. No surprise there.”

Her jaw tenses. “That’s not entirely true. I’m not a good person, I’ve never claimed to be, but I’m not guilty of what you’re accusing me of. I need you to stop judging me through your anger and listen for a minute.”

“I don’t need to do shit.” I crush the can in my fist. “Are you forgetting this is personal for me? I know what your family does. Quit trying to talk your way out of the facts.”

“I’m not. You say you have all the proof you need on my father and uncle. And I believe you.” She winces. “But you need to let me plead my case for me and my siblings. Let me prove Cole isn’t involved. I think if you understand he’s not capable of this, you’ll realize Layla and I are i