The Pawn (Hunter Trilogy #2)

Prologue

End of The Hunter

Ariana

The mountain seemed endless.

Twisting switchbacks. Narrow lanes hugged by cliffs on one side and shadowed trees on the other. Every curve looked like the one before it, sharp and unforgiving. I couldn’t be sure I was heading in the right direction.

I just knew I had to keep going.

The darkness out here was different. Not just night, but black. Like the earth had exhaled and blew out the stars. A sliver of moon hung behind me, barely enough to light the road. My eyes burned from staring so hard, the yellow and white lines blurring as fatigue clawed at me.

I had no idea how long I’d been driving. A few hours, maybe. My knuckles had gone pale around the steering wheel, my fingers aching from gripping it too tight.

The GPS on Henry’s phone had helped. The signal had been spotty, but it had flickered to life long enough to direct me down the mountain and onto a paved road. Not that I had a plan. I didn’t even know where I was going.

Only that it was away from him.

A loud ding cut through the Wrangler, jolting my already fried nerves.

I tore my eyes to the dashboard, looking for what caused that sound. The glowing icon mocked me.

Low fuel.

“Shit,” I muttered.

I hadn’t thought to check the fuel gauge when I escaped. Rookie mistake. I could only hope I’d find a gas station in the next fifty miles or all of this would have been for nothing.

I peered down the long expanse of road, as if a town might miraculously rise from the trees. But there was nothing. Just mile after mile of dense pine, shadowed hills, and silence so heavy it felt like the world had ended.

This was where Henry grew up? In this isolation? No wonder he was so…broken.

The thought came unbidden, and I shoved it down. I refused to feel sorry for him. Not after what he did. I didn’t care what demons he’d inherited from his father. He still made a deal with the fucking Bratva.

There was no coming back from that.

My shoulders ached by the time I finally spotted a flickering sign in the distance — an old gas station tucked beneath towering pine trees. A faded banner flapped beneath the overhang, barely legible through the grime.

But the lights were on.

Relief flooded me so fast I almost forgot to check my surroundings first.

Almost.

I cut the engine and scanned the lot. Not a single car. Just my own headlights reflecting off the glass door and an old pickup truck rusting near the side of the building.

I stepped into the night, the frigid air hitting me like a wall. I tugged Henry’s coat tighter and hurried across the lot. The bell above the door chimed when I entered.

It smelled like tobacco and stale coffee. Rows of snack food lined narrow shelves, and behind the counter stood a man who looked like he’d been carved from the very mountain I’d just escaped — gray beard, sun-worn skin, and an oversized flannel shirt with the cuffs rolled up.

“You lost?” he asked with a chuckle.

“What makes you say that?” I asked nervously.

“Ain’t too many folks come this way unless they’re hunting or hiding. And you don’t look like a hunter.”

I forced a polite smile. “Just passing through.”

He nodded thoughtfully as his eyes crawled over my face. “You look familiar.”

I swallowed hard, my heart racing in my chest.

I could tell him the truth. That my name was Ariana Kane. That I was abducted several days ago and held prisoner in some cabin up in the mountains. That the man who took me was hired by the Bratva.

But considering this was the first gas station I’d come across, I worried he might know Henry. I didn’t want to do anything that might draw attention to myself. Not until I was far enough away.

So instead, I reached for a pack of crackers on one of the shelves. “I get that a lot.”

He didn’t argue, but he watched me as I grabbed a bottle of water, a candy bar, then walked to the counter and dug into the roll of cash I’d taken.

“I’d also like forty worth of gas.”

The way his eyes lingered on the cash made my skin crawl.

He rang me up without a word, but I made a mental note to move the rest of the money to a safer spot.

“You be careful out there,” he said as I turned to leave. “World’s not as safe as it used to be.”

Didn’t I know it?

Outside, the air felt colder. Sharper. The kind that slipped beneath my skin and reminded me I was exposed. Vulnerable.

I filled the tank quickly, glancing over my shoulder every few seconds. I felt like a target, standing out here alone, in the middle of nowhere. Every pine needle that shifted in the wind sounded like footsteps. Every creak from the building could have been someone about to attack from behind.

But no one came.

Once I finished pumping, I closed the gas cap and jumped back into the Wrangler, cranking the ignition.

I turned onto the two-lane road again, trees thick on either side, the pavement stretching on for miles.

Where was I going?

I still didn’t know.

I figured I’d know when I got there.

So I kept driving, hoping for a highway. A town. A sign that I was closer to something human again.

Then I saw it.

Headlights.

The first I’d seen since escaping.

I blinked against the brightness, my heart lifting a little. Maybe I was finally getting close to civilization. A diner. A police station. Maybe even a bus stop.

The idea filled me with relief.

But as I glanced in the rearview mirror, my heart dropped when I noticed the SUV I just passed slow its speed, then turn around.

It was probably nothing. Just my paranoia getting the better of me.

They didn’t tailgate me, but they stayed behind me.

My grip on the wheel tightened as I continued to float my gaze from the road to the mirror and back again.

Was Henry in that car? I couldn’t make out a face in the darkness. Did he know some shortcut off the mountain and had tracked me down here?

Did the gas station attendant recognize the car and call him?

But Henry didn’t have an SUV.

At least, I didn’t think he did.

My stomach twisted.

I sped up.

So did the car tailing me.

With my heart in my throat, I pressed the gas harder, panic clawing up my spine. Trees whipped past like ghosts. The road narrowed. I gripped the wheel with white-knuckled hands.

Another mile.

Another curve.

Still behind me.

Suddenly, a loud bang reverberated in the silence.

The rear window exploded, glass shattering around me like shards of ice. I screamed, instinct causing me to jerk the wheel as the Wrangler fishtailed on the slick road.

Another shot rang out, and I lost control. The Jeep skidded, veered off the street and down an embankment, snow spraying past the windows, before crashing into a tree with bone-jarring force.

My head whipped forward. The wheel met my forehead with a sickening crack. Pain shot through my skull, bright and searing.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

My vision blurred, the edges curling inward.

Then I heard it.

Boots.

Crunching snow.

Getting closer.

The door to the Jeep opened.

I tried to speak. To scream. To fight.

But I never got a chance before my world went dark.