Chapter 23
The Hunter
T he classroom empties around me, a slow tide of students drifting toward the door, their chatter fading to a distant hum. I barely register them—just bodies filling space until the bell rings. But one absence stands out: Ruby’s.
Her usual place remains conspicuously vacant, a void where her presence should be. Irritation gnaws at the edges of my thoughts, sharp like a needle pressing against the skin. I shove it aside, though it lingers, simmering just beneath the surface.
Stepping out of the building, the brisk air greets me with a biting edge, sharp enough to pull a shallow breath from my lungs. The Uber I ordered already waits at the curb. I slide in, the door closing behind me with a soft, final thud that cuts off the outside world, muffling the chaos of the city.
As we pull away, the city blurs past, but I’m focused inward. Ruby. Her absence from class lingers in the back of my mind, an irritating itch I refuse to scratch. Not now. I have another engagement—a personal appointment. One that demands my full attention. I allow my thoughts to drift to Eve instead.
I see her no more than once a month, a limitation she imposed early on. He r rules. Her boundaries. I’d have preferred more control over the frequency of our sessions, but control is her game, and she wields it with the precision of a surgeon.
Eve never bends. Never falters. The dynamic is both a test and a challenge. One I’ve begrudgingly learned to play by her rules, though not without resistance.
We turn a corner, nearing the ‘Mortis Psychotherapy and Behavioral Clinic.’ The sterile name, clinical and cold, fits her perfectly—precise, detached, always in control. And with a name like Eve Mortis, it carries an air of inevitability, almost fate-bound. I smirk, thinking how apt it is. She’s the type of person who draws lines in the sand and dares you to cross them, knowing full well the consequences are hers to dictate. Her intellect is her shield, but it’s also her weapon.
We stop outside her building, and I step out into the chilled air. The reception area is sterile, the assistant barely glances at me before buzzing me through. They’ve long since learned that I don’t make small talk, and I expect the same in return. I’m here for Eve, not niceties.
The waiting room feels like a deliberate exercise in restraint—soft lighting, minimal décor, and the faint scent of jasmine that’s almost too subtle to notice. I sit, my thoughts still lingering on Ruby and her absence from class. It bothers me that she didn’t show up after I lost myself in her in the bar’s bathroom only last night.
After what feels like an eternity, the door to Eve’s office opens, and she stands there, motioning for me to enter. She’s calm, unflinching, her gray eyes locking onto mine with a sharpness that never fades.
Her office is a reflection of her—minimalistic, purposeful, with just enough personal touches to remind me she’s not entirely an enigma. Shelves of books—psychology texts, journals, a few obscure poetry collections. The window casts a soft light over the room, but it’s her I focus on.
She takes her seat across from me. She doesn’t speak, just observes. Her long dark hair cascades down her back, the lower half is dyed red for the season. Eve always makes a statement, subtle but intentional.
During Christmas, she had it dyed green, and during summer it’s usually a mix of yellow and orange, sometimes she takes a week or two with b lue.
She crosses one leg over the other, resting her notebook on her lap. “It’s been a month.” Her tone is neutral but probing.
“It has,” I respond, leaning back slightly in the leather chair. “I assume you’ve been keeping track.”
Her lips twitch into a faint smirk. “I always do.”
The silence that follows is thick, charged with unspoken tension, the kind that Eve thrives on. She waits, patient and deliberate, watching for any cracks in the armor. But I won’t break the quiet.
After what feels like forever, I look down at the watch on my wrist. As I look back up, Eve is beaming, and I know I might as well give in. She won fair and square.
“It’s almost February,” I say conversationally.
“Indeed.” Eve doesn’t give me more than one word to work with, letting me know she isn’t going to run the show for me.
“Do you remember the target I told you about during our last session?”
She flicks the pages in her book, presumably going back to notes from our session on December thirtieth. “I do. Are you still following her?”
I smirk. “No, I don’t need to.”
“Oh?”
“She’s coming to me now that she’s a student in my Criminology 101 class.” I try to keep emotion out of my voice, but it’s hard. Not only because it awakens something warm inside my chest, but if I’m completely honest, I’m proud of the setup I’ve orchestrated.
“Now, Valentine, when you say she’s coming to you, what do you mean by that?” Eve asks curiously.
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and steeple my fingers together. “Ruby is starved for attention, something I picked up on while following her in December. I’ve played on that, and given her what she wanted.”
“How so?”
“At first it was through tests in my classroom.” I explain how I made everyone come in early just so Ruby would be late, and how I ’ve given her extra attention as a reward when I felt like she’d earned it.
“So she’s your pet,” Eve summarizes when I’m done laying it all out for her. “Have you ever had to punish her?”
A shiver of excitement runs down my spine at the thought. “No, I haven’t. She’s very obedient and predictable.”
Eve scribbles something in her notebook before looking back at me. “Do you want her to disobey you?”
I frown for a second as I mull the question over. “That’s a loaded question,” I say dryly. “If I wanted her to misbehave and she did, she’d be doing what I wanted and thus wouldn’t be misbehaving.”
Eve nods slowly. “Do you want to give me a real answer? One that doesn’t involve deflecting?”
Straightening, I hold her gaze. “That wasn’t deflecting, Eve,” I scoff.
“Yes it was,” she states, not letting my tone put her off. “If you had posed it as a question, it would be different. Actually, for anyone but you, it might be considered a musing. But you forget that I know you; that I know you just reasoned your way out of answering my question. That is the very definition of deflecting, Valentine.”
A low growl escapes me, making me hate how astute and brilliant she is. And, well, hate that I keep trying to play games with her when it’s literally a waste of time. “Fine,” I relent, leaning back and throwing my arms out to the side. “You want a real answer, Eve? I don’t want her to disobey me. I want to be so far underneath her skin that she can’t escape me. I want to live rent free in her head, be in the very marrow of her bones. I want her to want to please me. I want Ruby Simmons to want me.”
If Eve recognizes Ruby’s full name, she doesn’t let on. “In what way? Sexually?” she asks.
“I already know she wants me sexually,” I confess, not able to keep smugness out of my tone. “She proved that to me yesterday.”
This is the first time I purposefully withhold information from Eve. But something inside me balks at the thought of sharing every intimate encounter, every heated glance, every touch. No, she can have yesterday’s interaction. But the rest belongs to me and Ruby, no one else.
Eve barely blinks as I tell her about the trip to the courthouse, and how it made me feel to walk among the very people who have sworn to uphold the law. It’s a rush like no other, one I savor even now as I explain it to Eve.
“Afterward I took my students to get a few drinks at a nearby bar where I cornered Ruby in the bathroom, and…” Trailing off, I swirl my hand in the air in a motion that’s meant to indicate things went further.
Not one to let me get away with anything she doesn’t agree on, Eve prompts, “And then?”
Sighing, I continue. “I fucked her against the bathroom wall, Dr. Mortis. Is that what you want to hear?”
“I want to hear anything you want to tell me, Valentine. But since we’re on the subject, we might as well stay here. Have you ever been intimate with one of your targets before?”
“No.”
She nods slowly. “You’re telling me details that you usually wouldn’t share. It’s unlike you. Do you want to be absolved? Or is it guilt that I see in your eyes?”
I narrow my eyes, my mind racing. Guilt? Absolution? “I don’t feel guilt,” I retort sharply.
“No?” She raises an eyebrow, idly flipping through her notebook again. “I think you do. And it’s not about the act itself—it’s about the ‘why’. Why did you take her pleasure into your own hands?”
“I was curious to see if she would let me,” I reply.
Eve shakes her head. “Is that all it was?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
I sigh audibly. “No. It wasn’t even about her. Ruby’s… she’s interesting, and yes, I’m attracted to her. But it was about me. I felt high after spending the day in the courtroom.” Though that’s the truth, it doesn’t feel like the complete truth. “It’s more than that, though. She wasn’t just an outlet. It was… more.”
“I understand,” Eve says. When I scoff, she continues. “For someone like you, the Hunter of New York City, it must be a natural high to walk right into a room filled with the very people who would love to catch you. So it only makes sense it was arousing to you. Now, help me unders tand why this woman, Ruby, was the one you chose to be intimate with.”
Trying to explain what it is that intrigues me about Ruby is no easy task, especially when I’m not exactly sure what it is myself. “She’s a puzzle, an enigma that I feel drawn to. She’s a walking contradiction. The Knight Mafia princess, yet so fragile and completely unprotected—”
“You’re fond of her, aren’t you?” Eve asks, abruptly interrupting me.
Her words hit harder than I expected. Fond? No. That’s not the right word. She’s a job. A target. Someone I’ll kill soon enough. But the thought of it doesn’t sit as easily as it should. “You’re reaching, Eve.”
“Am I?” Her voice is softer but still laced with challenge. “You’ve never been like this before. You’ve never let your curiosity linger this long. She’s not just a target to you, Valentine. She’s something more.”
“Perhaps,” I allow.
Eve straightens and slowly uncrosses her legs. “How are you going to kill her? When are you going to kill her? Will you make a spectacle of it?”
Knowing full well what she’s really asking, no, not asking—accusing me of, I narrow my eyes. “You think I can’t finish the job,” I state.
“I think you’re questioning whether you want to,” she says, her voice calm, steady, as if she’s stating a fact rather than making an accusation. “You’ve always been driven by curiosity, by the need to understand your targets. But this one… Ruby, she has gotten under your skin in a way that others haven’t. And that’s dangerous for you.”
“Careful, Eve,” I warn, my voice low, but she doesn’t back down.
“I’m not the one who needs to be careful,” she replies smoothly. “You brought her up in December, but you didn’t mention her name. You didn’t need to. I could hear it in the way you talked about her—the curiosity, the fascination. But this isn’t just about curiosity anymore, is it?”
Her words hang in the air, heavy and unavoidable. And for once, I don’t have a retort, no quick deflection to throw back at her. Eve sees me too clearly, knows me too well. And that’s why she’s dangerous. I don’t answer. I don’t need to. The silence is enough.
“ You’re at a crossroad, Valentine,” Eve continues, her voice soft but firm. “You can’t keep pretending this is just another job. You’re too invested now, whether you want to admit it or not. And that’s why you’re here—”
I curl my hands into fists at her words. “I’m here because we have a standing session every month.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Valentine, I know it must be tearing you apart to have feelings for your target. You’re questioning everything, aren’t you? Because for the first time, you care about the outcome.”
I clench my jaw, the weight of her words settling deep. She’s right, damn her. I do care, and that’s the problem.
Eve leans forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. “You’re not just fascinated by Ruby, Valentine. You’re attached.”
I swallow hard, refusing to admit it aloud, but my silence is answer enough. Attached? No. That would imply something I’m not ready to face. Yet, the thought of her—the lingering scent of her perfume, the way her green eyes lock onto mine when she’s angry, or worse, vulnerable—sticks with me in a way it shouldn’t.
Not to mention that last night I gave her what she wanted. Sure, it was what we both wanted. But I’d meant to see how long I could withhold, and she made me give in.
“You don’t have to say it,” Eve continues, her voice almost gentle now. “But you know it’s true. This isn’t just about control anymore. You’ve crossed a line with her, and now you’re questioning your own rules.”
I shake my head, the denial coming too late. “You’re wrong,” I mutter, though the conviction behind the words falters.
Eve’s lips twitch into a knowing smile. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be sitting here, grappling with whether or not you can kill her. It’s not a question of deserving anymore, Valentine. It’s a question of whether you can stand to lose her.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of my defenses. Lose Ruby? I don’t want that to happen. But then that means that Eve’s right; I can’t kill Ruby… and what’s more, I don’t want to .
I lean back in my chair, the leather creaking softly beneath me. “You think I’m in love with her,” I state flatly, though the idea feels foreign on my tongue.
Eve tilts her head slightly, observing me with that same analytical gaze. “Do you think you’re in love with her?”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “Love is a weakness, Eve. I don’t do weakness.”
“No,” she agrees, her voice soft but firm. “You don’t. But feelings are unpredictable. They don’t follow your rules, Valentine. They’re messy, chaotic. And whether you like it or not, you’re in the middle of it now. With Ruby.”
I stare at her, the truth sinking in, gnawing at me like an open wound. Eve watches me closely, waiting for the realization to hit—waiting for me to admit to myself what I’ve been trying to deny.
Ruby isn’t just a job. She isn’t just another kill on my list. She’s something else entirely. Something I can’t ignore. And that realization is far more dangerous than any target I’ve ever faced.
Yet, even knowing all of that, I’m not ready to give up on my game. Change it, perhaps. But not let it go entirely.