Hunter
I sit behind my desk, my fingers tap an impatient rhythm on the surface.
The noise echoes through the silent classroom.
Annoying, no doubt.
Every so often, a student glances up, their attention drawn to the noise before they quickly return to their books.
The knot of tension in my chest refuses to ease.
It’s the first day of classes after the short Halloween break.
And all I can think is, why the hell am I even here?
Why am I standing in front of a room full of entitled little pricks when the only reason I ever came to this damned island, isn’t even here?
I’ve already made peace with the fact that I’m fucked in the head.
Even more so when it comes to a certain redhead.
Because I came to St. Monarché Academy for her.
For a woman.
A woman who caught my interest beyond a quick fuck and a clean exit.
I know she’s back from the States.
I won’t dwell on how I know.
But she returned yesterday.
And now, she’s not here.
Which is strange, because Piper Ashthorne never misses class.
I know that for a fact.
I’ve checked.
I realise that this tension has very little to do with anger.
It’s because I haven’t seen her in days. And I suppose most people would call that missing someone.
Which is bloody ridiculous.
But even more ridiculous is the worry I feel.
Because if she’s back on the island, then where the hell is she?
I pull out my phone, but the classroom door swings open, saving me from doing something stupid.
Like texting her friends to ask about Miss Ashthorne’s whereabouts.
I look up, and there she is.
She steps inside quickly, her cheeks flushed and slightly out of breath, as though she ran all the way here.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her voice so damn quiet it barely reaches me.
She makes her way down the steps towards her row, careful to avoid my eyes.
She never once looks my way.
I clench my jaw.
Once seated, she places her bag on her lap, pulls out a notebook and pen, then fixes her attention on the empty page in front of her.
She has no idea what the assignment is, but it seems she’s so determined to avoid eye contact that she’d rather sit there and guess than ask.
Her hair falls over her face, shielding her from view.
The urge to close the distance between us is almost unbearable.
I glance at the clock and find there are still twenty minutes left of class.
Twenty bloody minutes.
The need to see her, to speak to her, is too strong.
“Class is over.”
The words echo through the room.
The students look up, confusion written all over their faces.
“Finish the assignment in your own time,” I say, as though ending a class twenty minutes early is perfectly normal. “And begin revising for your next assessment. There will be an unannounced exam before the Thanksgiving break.”
A few students continue to stare at me, while others pull out their phones, no doubt checking the time to make sure they heard correctly.
“Get the fuck out.”
That seems to get the message across. The room clears out remarkably fast.
My eyes go straight back to her.
Piper is on her feet now as well, shoving her things back into her bag.
And avoiding me like the plague.
I move before I can reconsider.
Not that there’s much to reconsider.
I have no interest in hiding whatever this is. I don’t care who sees me with her.
But she does.
And apparently, I’d do everything to make her happy.
A few strides bring me to her.
Her hand lifts to put her notebook away, but I catch her wrist before she can.
Her breath catches as she tries to pull away, but I tighten my grip.
I glance towards the door as the last student leaves.
Only then do I let go of her wrist.
She finishes packing her things, still determined to avoid my gaze.
I reach out and place my fingers beneath her chin, lifting her face until she’s forced to look at me.
The moment her eyes finally meet mine, I almost lose myself in them. The hazel seems richer somehow, and her freckles stand out more than I remember.
My attention stays there for a moment before it moves higher, and the reason she’s spent the entire time avoiding my eyes becomes immediately obvious.
A bruise mars her eyebrow and another shadows her forehead. They’re either a few days old or hidden well beneath makeup.
Either way, there’s no mistaking them from this distance.
And there’s a faint split at the corner of her lip.
The monster I’ve spent my entire life keeping under control rears its head.
That monster so set on making her mine.
That monster that has lived inside me for as long as I can remember and hungers for violence more than anything else.
That monster that wants death.
Someone put their hands on her.
And suddenly all I can think about is finding out who the fuck dared.
“Who did this to you?”
My voice is deathly calm, but inside I’m anything but. A storm rages within me.
“It’s... nothing,” she says quickly, trying to pull away from me.
I’m too distracted by the sight of her injuries, and before I realise it, she’s out of my hold and a step away from me.
I catch her immediately, my hand closing around her waist as I pull her back against me.
She hits my chest and flinches.
The reaction is slight, but I feel it like a knife to the chest.
Rage floods my system so quickly I feel myself detach from reality, as though I’m watching everything unfold from a distance rather than living it.
Carefully, without another word, I scoop her up bridal style.
She doesn’t protest, which is unlike her.
I turn and head for the emergency exit at the back of the classroom.
Once outside, there are still a few students around, but not many.
Good.
The last thing I need is Piper panicking because half the bloody academy witnessed this.
I pay them no attention, aside from a single look that sends most of them on their way.
My focus remains entirely on her, while my mind races with a hundred different thoughts.
She’s hiding something. Fine.
She’s convinced I’ll hate her once I learn the truth. Fucking fine.
She keeps trying to put distance between us. I fucking hate it, but we’ll deal with that later.
But this...
This is something else entirely.
Someone put their hands on her.
And that is something I won’t tolerate.
Whether she gives me the name of the soon to be dead bastard or not doesn’t matter, because one way or another, I’ll find out.
As I carry her towards the dorms, she presses her face into my chest, and little by little the tension leaves her body.
Under normal circumstances, I’d enjoy it.
Instead, something feels very fucking wrong because this isn’t Piper.
Piper would argue. She’d tell me to put her down. She’d fight me every step of the way, remind me for the thousandth time that we can’t be seen together, and when I’d ask why, she’d give me the same answer she always does.
I can’t tell you.
Stay away from me.
The usual bloody nonsense.
But now she simply lets me carry her.
By the time I make it back to the dorms, she’s fast asleep.
That dark feeling refuses to loosen its grip.
I push my door open, take her straight to my room and set her down on the bed as gently as I can.
She doesn’t stir.
Instead, she tucks her knees in and folds into herself.
The sight leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
I remain where I am for a moment, watching the subtle rise and fall of her breathing.
She looks too fragile, and I have the sudden, overwhelming urge to lock the bloody door and not let her out of my sight.
Slowly, I bend down and press a brief kiss to her forehead.
Then I straighten and leave the room.
Because if I stay, there’s a very real chance I’ll start breaking things, wake her up, and demand answers she has no intention of giving.
And then we’ll end up right back where we always do.
Nowhere.
Just her running from me again.
The moment I step into the living room, I rake a hand through my hair and pull out my phone.
Me: I need you to dig up everything you can on someone.
The reply arrives almost immediately.
Harry: Send me the name.
I do.
Then I place another call. Isaak answers on the third ring.
“I need a match tonight.”
“Done.”
I end the call and walk over to the window, my eyes lift to the dark sky beyond. Heavy clouds roll overhead, promising rain before long.
The air carries that strange weight that comes before a storm, and I recognise the feeling because it’s not unlike the one currently clawing at the inside of me.
I need an outlet.
Some way to rid myself of the pressure that has sat beneath my skin ever since I saw the bruises on her face
A fight will suffice.
For now.
Though it won’t be enough.
A match may take the edge off, but it’s nothing more than a temporary solution.
A distraction.
What I need are answers.
I need to find out what’s really going on with Piper Ashthorne.
Whoever put those bruises on her will regret it, and I’ll make sure they never get close enough to do it again.
But knowing Piper, getting the truth out of her won’t be easy.