Chapter 9 Hunter
HUNTER
Blood drips from the combat knife in my hand as I step over the body of Jax’s guard. He won’t be the last to die tonight. Not by a long shot.
“Clear,” Penn whispers through the comm in my ear. “East wing secure.”
“South entrance locked down,” Grayson confirms. “Two guys neutralized.”
The abandoned pharmaceutical facility looms around us; a labyrinth of darkened corridors and equipment left to rust. Moonlight filters through broken windows, casting long shadows across concrete floors. The air reeks of chemicals and neglect.
“Movement ahead,” I murmur, signaling my team to halt.
The red dot from my laser sight dances across the darkness. Something glints in the corridor ahead—a thin wire stretched ankle-high across our path.
“Trip wire,” I gesture, dropping to one knee.
Blaze kneels beside me, his expression grim. “This isn’t random. They knew we’d come.”
The realization burns through me, icy and precise. Jax has been planning this war longer than I suspected. Each of these locations is a carefully constructed death trap.
I clip the wire with specialized cutters, the tension releasing with a soft ping. Behind it, pressure pads line the floor in a staggered pattern.
“They’re herding us,” Penn observes. “Forcing a specific path.”
“Straight into an ambush,” I finish for him, tasting copper on my tongue.
Somewhere in this city, Aurora is being held by a man who’s had years to plan my downfall. The thought of her in Jax’s hands sharpens my focus to a lethal point.
“Blaze, bypass the corridor. Create our own entry point through the east lab. Grayson, deploy thermal imaging. I need heat signatures before we breach.”
They do as I instruct, even as I catch the unspoken concern in their eyes. We’ve hit two locations already with no sign of Aurora or Olivia.
“Hunt,” Grayson’s voice crackles through my earpiece. “Thermal’s showing multiple heat sources in the sub-basement. Could be targets, could be a trap.”
“Could be both,” I respond, checking my weapon.
The rage I’ve kept contained since Aurora’s abduction simmers just beneath my skin. If she’s here, nothing will stop me from reaching her. If she’s not, I’ll tear through every one of Jax’s men until I find where he’s hiding her.
We breach the sub-basement with explosive precision, simultaneously through four entry points. The moment we clear the doorways, gunfire erupts.
“Take cover!” Penn shouts as bullets chip concrete inches from his head.
I pivot and put two rounds through a gunman’s throat before he can adjust his aim. Blood sprays across industrial piping as he drops. Three men appear from behind chemical tanks, firing modified carbines.
“Cover me!” I command, breaking left while Blaze lays down suppressing fire.
The weight of my rage propels me forward, each movement calculated and deadly. I slide behind a concrete pillar as rounds impact where I stood moments before. Without hesitation, I swing around the opposite side and eliminate two more of Jax’s men with mechanical efficiency.
“Hunter, your three o’clock!” Grayson warns.
I drop to one knee and fire upward, catching the fourth gunman as he attempts to flank from an elevated platform. His body crashes onto the equipment below.
“Clear this level!” I order, advancing through the space. “Find me something!”
They sweep each room, neutralizing resistance. Bodies of Jax’s men litter the facility, but something feels wrong.
“Hunter,” Blaze calls, his voice tight. “This room’s been staged.”
I join him in what appears to be a holding cell. Two chairs sit in the center, restraints hanging loose. A discarded black evening gown—identical to the one Aurora wore—lies crumpled in the corner.
“It’s theater,” I snarl, kicking one of the chairs across the room. “They were never here.”
“Boss.” Grayson’s voice comes through my comm. “Security office, northeast corner. You need to see this.”
I find him staring at a monitor, its blue light reflecting off his grim expression. On screen, Jax King smiles directly into the camera.
“Hello, Hunter,” he says, looking amused. “Enjoying our little game of hide and seek? I’ve left breadcrumbs at each location. Some might call it a wild goose chase, but I prefer to think of it as... foreplay.”
Behind him, I glimpse a wall I recognize from another facility.
“He’s been recording these in advance,” Grayson says. “Leading us exactly where he wants us to go.”
I stare at Jax’s smug face on the monitor, everything clicking into place. The trip wires. The breadcrumbs. The staged cells. The perfectly timed video messages.
“He’s playing with us,” I say, my voice unnaturally calm. “This isn’t about eliminating a threat—it’s about breaking me first.”
Penn exchanges glances with Grayson. “Hunter—”
“We need to regroup,” I cut him off, turning away from the screen. “This is the third location tonight. Three more failures and we’re no closer to finding them.”
Something inside me fractures.
With a primal sound that barely resembles a human voice, I slam my fist into the concrete. Pain explodes through my hand, bright and clarifying. I hit it again. And again. Blood smears across the gray surface as my knuckles split open.
I welcome the agony, relish it. Each impact sends shocks of pain through my arm, cutting through the fog of rage and fear clouding my mind. The physical suffering anchors me to reality when nothing else can.
Blood drips between my fingers, pooling on the floor. I breathe heavily, finding strange comfort in my self-destruction.
This is what Jax doesn’t understand. Pain doesn’t break me—it focuses me.