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Yes, it’s lonely. But there is harmony in that, too.
I lived in that existence for a long time, going through the motions of life yet not really living. Not really feeling in my self-imposed isolation. Then Hunter showed up, obliterating my truth. He destroyed the peace. He blurred the bigger picture.
And I can’t deny I liked it.
He creeps into the reflection in the glass, approaching from over my right shoulder to meet my gaze. “He works for Torian. He’s a small-time dealer in Newport who comes back to Portland every few weeks to check in.”
He’s tempting me with the one thing I want, manipulating me because I’ve let him know all the right buttons to push. I close my eyes and simply listen. Not to Hunter. Not to Decker. I tune in to my intuition, hoping against all hope that it steers me in the right direction.
After all his lies, I can’t stomach the thought of trusting him. And then I think about him kissing me. I remember his notes. I hear his emotional admissions—I had to see you… You’ve got me… I sold my soul for your safety.
There has to be truth in those moments. At least the slightest glimmer.
“I know you think I’ve been fucking with you,” he murmurs. “But trust me, you’ve done shit to me, too.”
I open my eyes and glare at him through the reflection. “I haven’t done anything to you. Not one damn thing.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve fucked with me since the first time I saw you with Roberts. You messed with my head. You made me lose sight of everything.” He gives a sad smile. “All I see is you, Sarah.”
“Stop it.” I shove my hand through my loose hair, pulling tight. I need the pressure to stop building in my skull. I need relief. I need… Fuck. I don’t know what I need anymore.
“Let me help you with Jacob.” He takes a step closer.
“Don’t.” I scoot away and turn to face him. “If you move another step I’ll…” What? Scratch his eyes out? Beat him? Cuss him to death? Maybe I could do all of the above.
“I followed you from the hotel room with Dan because I wanted to know who you were. I wanted to know why someone like you would be with a lowlife piece of shit.”
“Bullshit,” I spit. “You needed to find out what he told me.”
“That was part of it, yes. But it didn’t stop there. It never stops with you.”
Oh, God. I’m succumbing. I want his lies. I crave the manipulation. Because even though his attention is fake, I keep convincing myself it’s real. From the first night I met him, I saw things in this man that were never there—attraction, passion, protection.
None of it existed, yet the fiction weaves around me like tendrils of the finest silk, delicate and comforting in my denial.
“I needed to know more. Not just about Dan, about you.” He remains a few feet away, somber with his deceptive conviction. “It got worse after we kissed. And then again when we fucked. Nothing made sense except my craving for more. It hasn’t changed. Even when Torian was breathing down my neck. Even when you had a gun to my chest. And God knows it only got worse when Carlos ran you off the—”
“I need you to stop.” My voice cracks and I give up the show of strength. “Please… Just stop.”
“I can’t. I’ve tried. When it comes to you, I don’t have any control. I just want you, Sarah. That’s all I know anymore.”
I suck in a breath and glance to Decker, expecting a smirk or a grin at the very least. I get neither. His lips are tight, his brow furrowed. He’s uncomfortable.
Well, goddamnit, so am I.
“I played you.” Hunter moves toward me, stopping within reach. “And I get that you don’t trust me. But I trust you.”
He reaches out, and I stiffen as he grabs me by my jeans pocket and retrieves my knife. I watch in disbelief as he flicks it open and holds out the hilt for me to take.
“Do what you like,” he offers. “Carve your name across my chest. Retaliate however you want.”
“Jesus Christ,” Decker mutters.
“I mean it.” Hunter places the knife in my palm and wraps his hand around mine, raising the blade so the tip almost touches the skin across his ribs. “Do what you need to. Make this right.”
My eyes are wide, my lips parted. He clutches my hand tight around the grip, and for the moment, I don’t want to let go. I want to hurt him. I need to make him suffer.
I take a menacing step forward, and the tip of the blade pierces his skin.
I watch intently as his eyes flare, his jaw tenses, his chin lifts. I derive the slightest taste of justice from his pain, but the remorse hits me tenfold.
“Go on,” he implores, his determination unwavering. “Do it.”
I clench my fingers tighter, my throat closing. I increase the pressure, hoping for satisfaction to hit me by the bucket-load. But those hazel eyes… God, those eyes. They do things to me that the most malicious actions can’t achieve. They strip my defenses. They strum my soul.
He sucks in a breath, and his grip loosens on my hand.
I glance down to find blood trailing over his stomach in a tiny rivulet to sink into the material of his black jeans.
“Get away from me.” I scoot back out of his reach, and the knife falls from my fingers to clatter to the tiled floor.
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. Forgiveness doesn’t come that easily. You have too much bullshit to make up for. No stab wound can amount to that.”
“Then tell me how to fix this,” he growls.
“How should I know?” I snap. “Haven’t you heard the saying? You don’t break a plate and expect an apology to make it better. You can glue it back together, but it’s still not the same. The damage is already done.”
“That’s some philosophical genius, right there,” Decker mumbles.
I ignore him, but Hunter’s eyes flare with fury. “Fine. I’ll give you space for now.”
He turns to the kitchen and walks away, leaving me cold with the receding attention. Maybe I should’ve stabbed him after all.
Decker raises a brow as his gaze drops to Hunter’s stomach. “You two are motherfucking crazy. I feel like I’ve just witnessed a satanic mating ritual.”
“Nobody asked you to be here.” Hunter rounds the island counter, grabs the scotch, and drinks from the bottle.
Blood seeps from the small cut against his ribs. He’s never been more vicious with his harsh glare and flaring nostrils. He’s never been more masculine. More fascinating. Alluring.
I march toward him, his eyes narrowing on me as I approach, and snatch the bottle from his hand. If I can’t escape this torment, then I sure as hell won’t let him do it via the reprieve of intoxication.
The asshole can suffer.
“Thanks.” I turn away and storm to my new bedroom.
The last thing I hear as I close myself inside is Decker’s laughter and his snickered, “You’ve got your hands full with that one.”