CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
KIERAN
I’VE NEVER BEEN this angry. Not in years. Not since that night when my sister tugged on my sweater and whispered, Kier, I’m so hungry. The same fire in my veins is burning me alive now, and it’s because of Hazel. Because of her words.
She didn’t just mention my sister—she cut me open with it. She said everything I’ve built is soaked in blood. And the worst part? She’s not wrong. But hearing it from her feels like betrayal wrapped in the truth.
My fists clench; the memory of what I said about Charlie is gnawing at me like a bad wound. I shouldn’t have brought him up. I know it. She was going to leave him behind because she wanted to escape. And honestly? I don’t blame her for that. But I can’t let her stand there and judge me.
I pace in a tight circle outside the back door, breathing hard as if the cold night air could somehow wash away the frustration flooding my chest. It doesn’t. My boots crush the gravel beneath me as I stomp through the small path, each step louder, harder, like I’m trying to stamp out the fury in my head.
I’m ready to roar into the night, ready to let out every scream I’ve ever swallowed. The frustration that’s building inside me is suffocating. I drag a hand through my hair, tugging hard at the roots, but it does nothing to stop the storm swirling inside me.
Hazel’s words keep repeating, twisting me so tightly that I’m sure I’m about to snap. I’ve never cared what people say. Words have never meant anything to me. But hers? Hers crawl under my skin, bury themselves deep, and take control of me in a way I hate.
That’s why I’m out here and not in there with her. Because if I were, I’d probably say something that would ruin everything, and I don’t know if I’d be able to take it back.
My throat tightens as another memory crashes into me. My sister, standing in the dim light, holding her stomach, her tiny fingers tugging on my sleeve.
"Kier, I’m so hungry."
I had looked down at her, my heart breaking into pieces I couldn’t afford to lose. I had tried everything to feed her, but with no money and no options, all I could do was sit there and listen to the sound of her stomach growling, each rumble like a knife dragging across my ribs. That night, I lay awake, biting down on my fist to keep from screaming.
That’s what it feels like right now—with Hazel. Like no matter how hard I try to fix this, I’m already too late.
I stop pacing and lean against the wall, my breath fogging in the cold air. My chest heaves as I try to rein myself in, but the only thing I can think about is going back inside and making her see me. Making her understand me. But how do I do that when I can’t even make sense of myself right now?
A noise in the distance smashes through my mind, shattering the memory of my sister’s hunger and Hazel’s pain. They vanish like smoke, dissolving into the cold night. My head clears in an instant. My instincts take over, sharpening every sense until I’m no longer a man but a hunter.
I scan the area, my gaze slicing through the darkness. Then I see it—a flash of silver. It’s quick, but I’m quicker. I lunge to the side, and the knife buries itself into the wooden door frame where I’d stood a second ago.
Too fucking close. Whoever this is, they’ve seen me.
I should go inside, grab my rifle, arm myself properly. That’s what a smart man would do. But I’m not thinking rationally. I’m already moving, heading straight toward the direction the knife came from. Each step feels like a declaration, a warning. My pulse pounds, my breathing steady as my body tunes itself to one singular purpose: hunt.
A roar tears from my throat, loud and raw, vibrating through me and ripping across the ground like a storm breaking loose. It echoes through the trees, through the silence, and I know exactly what it does—it spreads fear. That’s what I want. Let him know I’m coming.
I hear movement ahead. He’s running. Good.
The thought twists into something dark and satisfying. My lips pull back in a feral grin as I push harder, sprinting through the uneven terrain, my boots crushing twigs and dead leaves. The night air slaps against my face, but I don’t feel the cold. I don’t feel anything except the fire in my veins, the overwhelming need to catch this bastard.
Nothing else exists now. Not Hazel, not the weight of her words, not even the knife I barely dodged.
Only this.
Only the chase, the thrill of knowing I’ll catch him. And when I do? He won’t have a chance to breathe. Killing him is the only thing driving me forward. It fuels me, consumes me. The blood pounding in my ears is the only sound that matters.
Branches whip at my arms as I close the distance, and I can hear his frantic footsteps ahead. He’s panicking, stumbling, and that makes me grin wider. He thought he could ambush me, and now he’s running scared.
“Come on,” I mutter under my breath, my voice dark and low. “Let’s see how fast you really are.”
My fingers flex as if I’m already wrapping them around his throat, already feeling the moment he will go limp beneath me. My mind races ahead to that inevitable second when he will stop struggling, when his breath is gone, and his life is nothing more than a memory buried in the dirt.
It’s the sound of a gun being loaded that freezes me. Everything stops—the pounding in my chest, the adrenaline rush that had me surging forward—it all crashes to a dead halt as my boots dig into the dirt. My breath hitches, and I feel the weight of the gun trained on me without needing to turn around. The man I was chasing, slows his pace, stops running, and starts walking back toward me.
The barrel of the gun pressed against me keeps me still, as though it’s physically holding me in place. Neither of them speaks at first, and I sure as hell don’t ask any questions. I keep my breathing steady, calculating. Waiting. The man I chased stops directly in front of me, both of them hidden behind masks.
How stupid was I? I would never have been this reckless. Normally, I’d have assessed the danger, stayed ten steps ahead. But not tonight. No, tonight I let Hazel’s words crack me open, and my pride dragged me into this mess, headfirst and blind.
And now she’s alone and unguarded.
My jaw clenches as that realization cuts deeper than the gun ever could.
“Take him back to the house and tie him up,” the guy I had been chasing says. His voice is steady, authoritative. He’s the one calling the shots.
I grin through the pulse of fury pounding in my head. “That sounds like a very stupid idea.”
Before I can blink, pain explodes at the base of my skull as the man behind me strikes me with the butt of his gun. The impact sends me to my knees, the ground hard and unforgiving beneath me. My vision blurs, and for a second, I hear nothing but the dull ringing in my ears.
“What’s stupid is chasing an armed man,” the guy I chased says, kneeling down so we’re eye level. My head spins slightly, but I plant my hands firmly in the dirt to stay upright. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me drop.
“No, you’re stupid,” I mumble, low and slurred. There’s no way he heard me.
He leans in closer, his head tilting. “What?”
I mumble again, softer this time, and he glances up at his partner with a laugh. “You hit him a little too hard,” he says, chuckling.
They laugh together, and that’s their mistake. The exact moment I need.
Before he can react, I spring. My forehead slams into his nose, and the crack is instant, satisfying. He yelps, but I’m already on him, grabbing him and spinning his body to use as a shield. His weight presses against me, but I keep him upright, one arm locked around his neck as I drag us to our feet and pat him down with my free hand. No gun. Just a knife.
I pull the blade free, the cold handle in my hand, and press it to his throat. His breathing is frantic, and I feel the pulse racing beneath the edge of the knife. His friend stands a few feet away, still pointing the gun, but he doesn’t fire. That tells me everything I need to know.
He’s hesitating.
I have time.
“How many of you are there?” I demand, voice low and steady.
The man in my arms chokes out a response. “Just the two of us.”
“Who sent you?”
His body tenses, and his partner opens his mouth to answer.
“Mike, don’t.”
I tighten my grip, making the knife bite just enough for him to feel it. “Who sent you?”
Mike raises the gun higher, his hand unsteady. His aim wavers, and although I can’t see his face, his eyes betray him. He’s panicking. I can tell from the way his fingers tremble against the trigger.
He’s going to pull it.
And I know exactly what’s coming.
When he fires, I’m already moving. I shift my hostage in front of me, but the bullet clips my arm and tears through his neck, spraying blood across my chest and face. His body slumps instantly, dead weight dragging me down. I drop him without a second thought and hurl the knife at Mike, my hand moving on instinct.
He pulls the trigger again, but it’s too late. The bullet flies harmlessly into the night while the knife buries itself in the center of his forehead with a sickening thunk. His body wavers for half a second, then crumples to the ground.
I don’t wait to see him hit the dirt.
I’m already running, sprinting through the trees, tearing across the ground with one thought hammering in my skull— Hazel.
I can’t get there fast enough. My arm burns where the bullet grazed me, but I ignore it, pushing harder, faster. The only thing that matters is getting back to her. I was stupid to leave her, and if anything’s happened—no. Nothing has happened.
It can’t have. I won’t let it.
I tear through the trees, the house coming into view as the night closes around me.
I reach the house, breath coming fast, but I force myself to stop at the door. As much as I want to barge in, yell Hazel’s name, and tear through every room until I see her, I can’t afford to be reckless again. I’ve already fucked up once tonight. I won’t do it twice.
My gaze flicks to the knife embedded in the door frame, and I pull it free. I press my back against the wall, close my eyes, and take three controlled breaths. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. The pounding in my head dulls, but my heart doesn’t slow. It keeps hammering like a war drum.
I twist the doorknob and push the door open, quiet and deliberate. Silence greets me as I slip inside. The kitchen is dark, untouched. Nothing’s out of place. The fridge hums.
I move further, my boots making no sound against the floor as I step into the small hallway. That’s when I see Charlie lying on the ground. My pulse spikes. I scan his body for any signs of blood, any wound that might explain why he’s down, other than sleeping, but then he raises his head and meets my gaze. His eyes soften, and he pushes himself up onto all fours.
Relief crashes over me like a wave, but I don’t show it. I walk to him, crouching just enough to press my hand against the top of his head, the warmth of him grounding me. I need this small connection, this reassurance that at least one thing is okay.
I let my fingers graze through his fur one last time before I stand. I’m already moving toward the living room when a flash of red catches my eye, and I freeze.
It’s her. Hazel.
She’s moving through the dim light toward me. Before she can say anything, I have her pinned to the wall, my hand covering her mouth. Her breath hitches beneath my palm, and her wide eyes meet mine. It’s not confusion or anger staring back at me—it’s pure, unfiltered fear.
My chest tightens. I hate seeing her like this, but I can’t let go. Not yet. I lean in, my lips so close to her ear that I can feel her tremble.
"Are you alone?" I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.
She nods frantically, her warm breath hot against my hand. I pause, searching her eyes for any doubt, any sign that she’s lying, but all I see is desperation. Slowly, I release her and step back, keeping the knife low but ready as I enter the living room.
Empty.
I scan every corner, but there’s nothing—just Hazel and me. Relief hits me hard, so sudden and overwhelming that my fingers loosen on the knife, and the tip lowers until it’s pointing at the floor.
I turn back to Hazel. Her chest is heaving, her hand pressed against her heart as if she’s trying to calm it, but her head shakes slightly, like she’s fighting off some invisible force.
"What—what just happened?" Her voice is shaky, and she stumbles over the words.
She looks like she’s going to pass out. Her face is pale, her lips trembling.
I take a step toward her, but she flinches, and that small movement stops me dead in my tracks.