Chapter 25
…LUB DUB…
Maggie
Graham had Derek meet him a couple blocks away from the manor. I drove the Gremlin and parked it in its normal spot. Nothing suspicious. Nothing new. Just like Graham said. Familiarity.
If Hunter obeyed my request to be alone, he should stay away until I texted him otherwise. I went inside and unlocked the back door and got to work preparing a meal. Maybe his favorite. Something to say ‘sorry’ for kicking him out.
Beef Wellington, roasted Brussels sprouts, creamed root vegetables, and glazed carrots should do.
Half an hour had passed, and while the meal was fully on its way to perfection… Graham and Derek were finishing up in the study. A bug for each room. Two in the kitchen and dining room since we most likely would be there the longest.
“All set,” Derek said, holding his duffle over his shoulder. “Kitchen and dining room are rigged with two. I’m not going to disclose exact locations for… reasons.”
“Thanks, Derek.”
“Max, I’ll be right outside in the woods. If anything happens, scream as loud as you can. You got it?”
I nodded. “I’ll be fine, now get outta here. You’ll make me burn it,” I said dryly.
Graham pulled me in, his arm slipping behind my back. Worry etched into his eyes behind the darkness, behind the rage. “I’d rather you poisoned it.”
“Graham…” I ran the back of my fingers down his cheek. “I’ll be fine.”
He didn’t say anything, just pulled me in even harder—his hand gripping at my back so hard a small pang of pain bloomed under his touch. He closed the distance, kissing me hard, like it might be the last time he saw me.
My heart beat forcefully under my ribcage, pounding against his chest, until he pulled back, breaking our connection.
I waited until I heard the back door open, then close, before texting Hunter.
Sweat beaded on my brow as I thumbed out a message.
Hey baby, I’m sorry about earlier. Why don’t you come home? I’ve made your favorite.
I opened the oven door and pulled out the Wellington, snapping a quick photo and sending it.
A moment later, my phone dinged.
Hunter:
On my way.
“Whew… Okay, breathe, Maggie. Breathe. You got this,” I said to the air. And maybe to Graham.
Be cool.
Be normal.
God, how could I be normal? I had a fucking AirTag in a condom up my ass! That was anything but normal.
A few minutes later, Hunter’s Bentley pulled in. I stayed at the stove, stirring the carrots so they caramelized to perfection.
The door opened, but I never heard it close.
Then footsteps.
“Hey, baby,” I said, turning to him.
He didn’t say anything, just lined himself up behind me and swept my hair to one side before wrapping me in a backwards hug.
“Hey, doesn’t it smell great?”
He grunted in agreement.
I turned around. Something wasn’t right.
“You okay?” I said, staring into his eyes—they were dark… hollow.
He nodded, then kissed me. Before I knew it, he’d brought his black, leather-gloved hand to my mouth where he held a cloth drenched in what I could only imagine was ether. My knees weakened, and before I could say anything, my vision blurred, doubled, then faded out. Blackness consumed everything.
Like the waves of the sea, the ebb and flow of the moonlight shining into the cold, damp room brought me back.
My wrists burned—bound tight with tape, and my head throbbed, either from the ether or the fact that I was upside down and my blood was pooling into my brain.
I’d been draped over someone’s shoulder.
Graham?
No.
He wouldn’t carry me like this...
I breathed in deep and it hit me. Hunter’s cologne.
Fuck.
Even after everything… even after the proof… the plan. I’d still hoped Graham was wrong. But the way he moved… His scent… the way he breathed. I knew.
Hunter lowered me down onto a chair with my hands secured behind me and backed up, inspecting me, looking me over like I was his prize. Fixing my hair so it draped to the side like he liked it—fucking asshole.
He’d brought me to a dank old boathouse that smelled like swamp and turpentine.
Graham’s voice echoing, “I’ll find you,” in my mind was the only thing that kept me sane.
“Do you have any idea what kind of sick torment… what kind of mind games you’ve put me through?
” Hunter seethed, his face contorting into something so dark and soulless my breath caught in my throat.
“I’ve obsessed over you for three months without a fucking answer as to why.
You’re not my type. You’re too… much—too emotional—too connected.
Once you told me about the curse… it all made sense.
I prefer the girls that don’t feel. The ones who keep their thoughts inside.
The ones that stayed quiet. You’re nothing like that… but you know that, don’t you, mo chróí?
“That night at the bar, there was something drawing me to you. A sadness… the same sadness that consumed me every night. That night was the night I vowed to never raise my hand to another woman. But suddenly trying to keep that vow became an obsession I couldn’t control.
I kept hearing the words, ‘Don’t. Not her. Not this time.’
“But this urge took over… this need to end you flooded every cell in my body. It consumed my every thought. But I never could do it. Because part of me—the part that you cursed—loved you so deeply that the very thought of you dead tore at my soul.
“So I did the only thing I could. I found a substitute. Someone to stand in your place. A proxy. Someone to take the edge off.”
Hunter pulled his mask out from his backpack.
White.
Emotionless.
Terrifying.
“Not tonight,” he said, sliding it over his face. “Tonight we end the madness.”
“Hunter, wait...” My voice came out weak. “Baby, please, don’t do this,” I begged.
He stepped closer, pulling a knife from his boot, his leather gloves creaking with his grip.
“I’m working with Graham to try and break the spell.” My wrists ached as I struggled with the duct tape wrapped tightly around them. “You can go back to your life without me. Just give me time.”
“Time? Graham? You want me to be happy you’re spending more time with Graham?! The moment you got your eyes on him again, the first thread of whatever cord bound us together broke. And every time you saw him after… another, then another.”
Was Hunter right? Was Graham really the reason he changed?
Why he started hitting me? Shoving me? It wasn’t jealousy this whole time.
It was the curse… fraying under the weight of what my heart really wanted.
What Hunter really wanted. He was using me that night just as much as I was using him.
A way to forget… to move on. To do something so out of the norm to try and trick the brain into submission. But both our plans failed.
He wanted to end me…
And had I known that was his plan all along… I probably would have let him.
If it hadn’t been for me, Hunter maybe would have given up murdering people.
If it hadn’t been for me, maybe he would have had a normal life—put his past behind him.
No.
Serial killers didn’t get second chances.
Forgiveness.
Peace.
Even Hell—should there be a place—was too good for them.
I pushed off the chair and launched my body at Hunter. If I was dying today, it wouldn’t be because I gave up. It would be because I gave everything to bring a monster down.
My body slammed into his, but he caught me. We struggled, fighting for power. But before I had a stable footing, he slammed me down to the hard concrete, knocking the wind out of me.
He stood over me—mocking… swinging the knife between his thumb and index finger. He rolled me to my side and sliced the duct tape—freeing my hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Blood’s not my thing. You know that.” He glowered, lowering himself down so he straddled me.
I squirmed underneath his weight, pounding at his chest—trying everything to get him off, but it was no use. I couldn’t free myself.
“No. Hunter, get off!”
He brought his gloved hand to my face, but I pushed him away.
Snatching my hand mid-swing, he tucked it under his one knee, then the other. I couldn’t move.
He gripped my face again and lifted the mask just enough to press a bitter kiss into my lips. “Stay still… it will be over soon.”
Then he punched me, right in the eye. Purple bloomed across my vision, but that didn’t do what he thought it would. It fueled me.
He unzipped his pants and pulled a little foil packet from a plastic baggie he had neatly tucked in his pocket.
“Really? A condom? Are you fucking serious right now?”
He tossed the condom to the side and pushed my leggings down past my hips. But just as he dipped his fingers into the elastic of my panties, the wooden door burst open, slamming against the wall with a solid crack.
Graham!
He dove onto Hunter, knocking him off me. The sound of their bodies hitting twisted something sickening inside. Elbows collided with jaws. Knees to sternums. Flesh tore, blood sprayed. It was a fucking massacre.
Hunter’d got a few swings in at the beginning, but once one connected, Graham lost it. Swinging his fists one after the other, kicking, punching, kneeing wherever he had a chance at hitting.
I scurried away, pulling my leggings up in the process.
Two grown men in a full-out brawl was not something I wanted to get in between.
Once Graham overpowered him and straddled him just as he did me, he punched him repeatedly, beating him until his face became unrecognizable.
“Graham, stop!” I rushed over and touched his shoulder, attempting to cool the fiery rage that consumed him. “You’re going to kill him.”
“You think he deserves less?” he gritted out with another solid blow connecting.
“No. But you don’t need to have that on your conscience… or your fucking record.”
He stopped and fell back on his heels, catching his breath.
I knelt and pressed two fingers against Hunter’s neck, feeling for a pulse.
Come on… Where is it, dammit?
I adjusted my fingers…
Fuck, come on!
Then I felt it.
…lub dub………..lub dub…………lub dub…..…..lub dub….
I sighed, a wave of relief rushing over me. “He’s not dead.”
“Shame,” Graham gritted out, his jaw clenched tight.
He stood, grunting as he hefted Hunter onto his shoulder and carried him out of the boathouse.
“What are you doing?” I asked, following him out the door and into the darkness of the night.
“Max, we can’t let him go. He’s a murderer. Even if we break the curse… who’s to say he wouldn’t start up again? Besides, we defied direct orders. We broke the law. We’re in too deep now.”
“So you’re not… turning him in?”
“No.”
“What? Can’t we see if there’s some way out? A loophole? Anything?”
“No.” Graham dumped Hunter into the back of the pickup with a thud and threw a canvas tarp over him.
“Are you going to kill him?” I asked, my heart rising in my throat.
Graham’s glare softened when he looked at me. “Go home, Max. Get cleaned up. I’ll meet you there when I’m finished.”
“Graham, I—”
“Did I fucking stutter? Move!”