Chapter 11 Hunter
HUNTER
My reflection in the window looks like a stranger’s—hollow eyes, three-day stubble, and a jawline tight enough to crack. Blood stains my shirt cuffs. I don’t remember if it’s mine or someone else’s anymore.
“Negative on the western quadrant.” Blaze’s voice crackles through the comms. “Place is cleared.”
I slam my fist into the dashboard. Four more fucking locations. Four more dead ends. Each one meticulously staged to keep us hunting, to keep me suffering.
“Hunter, we need to regroup,” Penn says from the driver’s seat, glancing at me with poorly concealed concern. “You haven’t slept in—”
“I’ll sleep when Aurora’s safe,” I cut him off, pulling up the satellite image of our next target on my tablet. The screen blurs before my eyes, and I blink hard to focus. “The warehouse in Brighton is next. Ten minutes out. Have the team ready.”
Penn doesn’t start the engine. “We’ve hit seven locations in three days. Our men are exhausted. You’re exhausted.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.” Blaze’s voice comes from behind as he approaches our vehicle. He opens the rear door and slides in. “You’re making mistakes. That last raid—you went in without proper recon. Two of our men took bullets.”
“They’ll live,” I mutter.
“This time.” Blaze’s tone hardens. “Next time they might not. And neither might you.”
I turn to face him, rage boiling through my veins. “You think I give a fuck about my safety right now? Jax has Aurora. Every minute we waste, he—”
“That’s exactly what he wants,” Penn interrupts. “You’re playing his game, walking into every trap he sets because you’re not thinking straight. You’re just reacting.”
I know they’re right. Somewhere in the rational corner of my mind that hasn’t been consumed by desperation, I recognize the truth in their words. But that part grows smaller by the hour.
“We need a new approach,” Blaze says quietly. “Intelligence over brute force. Jax is feeding us breadcrumbs, and we’re following them exactly as he planned.”
The tablet in my hand suddenly seems too heavy. My vision swims with exhaustion and something else—fear. Pure, unfiltered fear that I’ll never find her. That I’ve failed her.
“Six hours,” Penn says. “Give yourself six hours of sleep. Let us work the intelligence angle. We’ll wake you the moment we have something solid.”
“I’ll rest when we’re done with Brighton,” I tell them, my voice leaving no room for argument. “Now drive.”
Penn exchanges a look with Blaze before reluctantly starting the engine. The tension in the car is thick enough to cut, but I don’t care. Every minute wasted is another minute Aurora remains in Jax’s hands.
Forty minutes later, we’re approaching a dilapidated warehouse in the industrial district. Rain pelts the windshield as we pull up two blocks away. Our team assembles silently, checking weapons and comms.
“East and west entrances covered,” Grayson reports. “Thermal shows seven heat signatures inside the main floor.”
I check my weapon and move toward the front, ignoring the concerned glances from my team. My hands shake slightly—from exhaustion or adrenaline, I can’t tell anymore.
“Hunter, we need to coordinate—” Ari starts.
“Follow my lead,” I cut him off, already moving.
The warehouse door gives way under my boot. I charge through the entrance, weapon raised, scanning for targets. Everything narrows to tunnel vision—finding Aurora is all that matters.
A flash of movement to my right. I pivot, firing two rounds before fully registering what I’m seeing. Return fire erupts from behind a stack of crates.
“Hunter, get down!” Ari shouts.
I ignore him, advancing when I should be taking cover. Something feels off about this place—it’s another setup, another of Jax’s games—but the rage propels me forward.
The distinctive red dot of a laser sight appears on my chest.
I freeze, a split-second of clarity cutting through my fog of exhaustion.
Suddenly, Ari slams into me from behind, shoving me sideways as a shot cracks through the air. We crash to the ground behind a concrete pillar. Ari grunts in pain.
“Fuck,” he hisses, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeps between his fingers.
“Man down!” Blaze calls over comms. “East section, need immediate cover!”
I stare at the spreading crimson on Ari’s shirt. He took a bullet meant for me because I couldn’t wait. Because I couldn’t think.
The realization hits me with devastating clarity: I’m out of control, and my recklessness just got one of my oldest friends shot.
I stumble into my penthouse at 3 AM, drenched in rain and defeat. The silence crushes me. For days, I’ve been running on rage, pushing away anything that threatens my focus.
But here, alone, with no one watching, something breaks.
My hands tremble as I pour a whiskey and miss the glass entirely. The amber liquid pools on the counter, and suddenly I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t function.
“FUCK!” I hurl the empty glass against the wall, watching it shatter into a thousand glittering pieces. The sound isn’t satisfying enough.
I move to my office in a trance, seeing Aurora’s face in every shadow. The weight I’ve been holding at bay crashes down all at once—crushing, suffocating, unbearable. I sweep everything from my desk in one violent motion. My monitor crashes to the floor. Papers flutter like dying birds.
Not enough.
I overturn the heavy mahogany desk with a roar that tears my throat.
My carefully ordered world splinters apart as I destroy everything within reach.
A framed photo of the Vipers shatters under my boot.
The glass cabinet housing rare whiskeys explodes under the force of a chair thrown at full strength.
With each act of destruction, my mind grows clearer. My breaths come easier. The fog of exhaustion recedes just enough for rational thought to penetrate.
Fifteen minutes later, my office lies in ruins around me, and I stand in the center, bleeding from cuts I don’t remember receiving. The rage has burned itself out, leaving cold clarity in its wake.
Aurora needs me functioning. Not this broken shell staggering through days without sleep.
I make my way to the bedroom, not bothering to clean the blood from my hands. My body feels weighed with lead as I collapse onto the sheets fully dressed. Sleep has been my enemy, bringing nightmares of what might be happening to Aurora. But now I know it’s my only ally.
I shut my eyes, forcing my racing mind to quiet. Six hours. I’ll allow myself six hours of unconsciousness. Then I’ll find her.
For her, I’ll rest. For her, I’ll think clearly again.