Page 14 of Accept Me (Fate’s Choice #4)

HUNTER

A hail of gunfire slammed into the cabin.

Cursing, I tried to swerve onto a side road, but it was blocked by fallen logs.

That split second was enough to tell me something was about to go horribly wrong.

Far ahead, I caught sight of the truck Ragnar was driving.

If anyone had planted explosives, his truck would hit them first. That thought, oddly comforting for a second, flashed through my mind… and then shattered.

It happened.

A hundred yards ahead, the blast hit my truck. The blast was so powerful it launched the vehicle into the air. It was a miracle it didn’t explode on impact.

I blacked out.

When I came to, warm blood was trickling down my temple and dripping into my mouth. The taste was sharp, metallic, and nauseating. But I pushed it aside. I had to. Someone needed me more than ever. My pregnant husband, Olaf. If the crash had hit me this hard, it could’ve been even worse for him.

I turned my head. My seatbelt was still holding me, keeping me half-suspended. Olaf was hanging in the opposite direction, which struck me as odd. His body looked twisted, all wrong. My fingers trembled as I unclasped my belt.

I crawled into his seat.

"Olaf?" I whispered. I gently turned his face toward mine.

And froze.

My world ended right then.

Half his face was gone.

One of his eyes stared at me blankly. A gaze that no longer saw anything and never would again.

A scream tore from my throat, a guttural, echoing sound.

My hands, on instinct, reached toward his abdomen, where there was a small bump. Everything in me was dying as I heard a barely audible heartbeat that slowly… grew even quieter, and then stopped.

The silence killed me for the second time.

I had let them down.

I should be their protector! My defensive instincts had let us down.

Why, Fate? I had absolutely failed. Olaf shouldn’t have been there.

No, no, no!

I opened my eyes to a voice calling my name.

"Hunter! You had a bad dream…"

My body was drenched in sweat, tense, like I was still inside that truck, still trapped in the moment my husband died, taking our unborn child with him.

Veyron’s face was leaning over me, his brows furrowed.

"What are you even doing here?" I grumbled, realizing I was, in fact, naked and my junk was on full display. "You told me I was good here for a few days…"

He snorted. "I had some stuff to take care of. I was just passing through and thought I’d check in on you. And what do I have here? The yacht reeks like a drunk tank!"

"For fuck’s sake…" I muttered, feeling miffed. "Can you give me a minute?"

Veyron darted a quick glance to my crotch and made a ‘WTF’ face. Then he stepped out of the cabin, and I took the chance to roll over and squeeze my eyes shut.

My body was still vibrating. Just another nightmare in a long line of them.

For close to a year now, I’d relived Olaf’s death almost every night. Then I’d wake up, reach for a bottle, and try to survive another twenty-four hours, only to repeat the cycle. Same dream. Over and over. Ragnar’s truck ahead, mine behind.

The explosion. Olaf’s lifeless body.

Such a brutal, senseless death on our final mission. The last one before we were supposed to leave the military behind for good.

Olaf had been a field doctor, working in NFH warzones. He was the best man I’d ever known, a soul like an angel. He wanted to help people where no one else dared to go, where death lurked around every corner. He believed in making the world better.

And he died doing what he loved.

Leaving nothing but ashes in my soul, a wreck of a man.

I rolled over again. Fuck…

Veyron would not leave, for sure. He was waiting for me to get my shit together.

After a few more minutes, I forced myself to get up and pulled on my jogging gear over my sweaty body.

Only then did I crawl out of the cabin, my face grumpy, my brows furrowed.

Veyron was leaning over the hull, staring at the horizon with a pensive look on his face.

When he noticed me, his eyes widened.

"Seriously? You’re gonna jog right now?"

"Of course! Gotta get the poison out of my system…" I muttered, adjusting my shoelaces.

My younger cousin stared at me, gaping. "Unbelievable. So, a high-functioning alcoholic, huh?"

The comment rubbed me the wrong way, so I denied the obvious. "I’m not an alcoholic. Don’t put that on me."

Veyron looked at my scowling face for a few seconds with obvious skepticism.

"Sure… whatever you say, cuz."

That annoyed me even more, but his cheerful, lighthearted expression made me pause. I could be nicer. Probably should. My cousin hadn’t done anything wrong. He lent me the yacht and kept being patient.

"Listen, Vey… Sorry for the reek. I’ll air the place out after I get back."

He shrugged. "No problem, really. I have to be at the office for the next few days anyway, so I won't be back on the yacht. What are your plans for the weekend?"

"Uh… a business trip. Some consultations."

Veyron rubbed his chin. "Oh. I thought we could hang out. Maybe talk."

No, no, no. Not this again. Many people tried, and all of them meant well, to help the miserable drunk widower. They all took pity on me and tried to help, but I was just too far gone.

"Sorry. Another time," I mumbled. "Gonna jog now. Helps clear my head."

"Sure. Whatever works best."

I passed him in silence and headed for the quay. There were some good running paths around here, and I planned to make the most of them.

◆◆◆

An hour of intense jogging did the trick. My whole body was soaked in sweat, probably dragging out a few toxins with it, because my head felt lighter and the dark thoughts slunk back to whatever grave they had crawled out of.

The marina came into view, a gorgeous spot, tucked into a calm little bay, with flocks of birds circling overhead. The sun was shining, and I finally took a deeper breath.

As I looked out at the shimmering surface of the ocean, that faint longing stirred inside me, a wish for my life to change somehow, to brighten, to break free from the cycle of pain, anger, and loneliness. But in that moment, I had no idea where to even begin.

As I got closer to the docks, mentally drafting how I’d properly apologize to Veyron for stinking up his fancy yacht with fucking whiskey fumes, my phone rang.

I was sure it’d be Ragnar, but I was wrong.

The name that flashed on the screen was so rare in my life, I was honestly shocked I even had his number saved.

My one and only purple alpha cousin: Storm Nolan.

A controversial figure in our family, recently reinstated at a matchmaking agency, from what I had heard.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Hunter. How are you?" His tone sounded distinctly light.

"Storm. Oh." I made sure to sound unenthusiastic.

"Yeah, it’s me. I’m calling about something. As you may know, I work at a matchmaking agency, and I also found my True Mate recently."

I made a noncommittal grunting sound and muttered, "Well, congrats. Looks like you were next in line. Your brothers have had a good streak lately with finding Trues."

"Yeah, about that. You know I’m a purple?"

What was his fucking point? "Hard to miss, Storm."

"Right, so… I need to tell you something that might sound strange. I think I know who your True Mate is."

For a second, my head glitched. I had heard the gossip about Storm’s supposed ability to find people’s fated mates, but I’d yet to see any proof. None of his brothers had found their perfect matches with Storm’s help, so I was more than skeptical.

He was silent for a moment while I wondered what his angle was. But then, instead of claiming some magical gift, he surprised me by cautiously saying,

"Well, the company I have shares in, Fate’s Choice, now collaborates with a renowned scientist, Blue Lowen. They’ve made breakthroughs in identifying matches based on genetic markers, and, incredible as it sounds, we may have found yours."

Indeed, it sounded way too sci-fi, so I just snorted impatiently. "And how exactly did you match me? Do you have my blood sample?"

"As a military member, your genetic data was included in a publicly accessible research database. Blue Lowen utilized it for scientific studies aimed at benefiting the public good."

Was he reading it from a script? It seemed stiff and rehearsed.

But deep down, something started to stir in me, nudging at the edge of my mind. The feeling I had a minute ago, the longing for a change…

I was about to tell him to fuck off, but instead, my mouth didn’t listen, and I heard myself mutter,

"Interesting."

"The guy doesn’t know about you yet, but he’s actively searching for his fated. He’ll be at the fair we’re hosting at the expo center. I can give you his details, and you can decide if you want to show up."

My mind went blank, unable to form any coherent thoughts. It was surreal. Was Storm messing with me? Pulling some kind of cruel stunt? He had always been the bully type, but… would he really give me false hope, knowing I was still mourning?

Before I even realized what I was doing, I threw out, "Okay. I'm about to leave for a business meeting in another city, but I might make it back in time."

"Don’t be too late. The guy is… pretty attractive. Some other alphas may—"

Gosh, it sounded just absurd, but I answered anyway, making sure to add a bit of a sarcastic tone, "Well, if he’s my perfect mate, even if someone buys his contract, it’ll be nullified, right? So, no worries."

"Yeah, that’s true."

"Okay, send me the details. I’ll try to make it."

After he hung up, I stared blankly at my phone screen.

What the fuck had I just agreed to? I wasn’t done grieving Olaf!

I must’ve lost my mind.

◆◆◆

Present day

Feeling tired and unfocused, I pulled up outside the Fate’s Choice building. I had just returned from a two-day business trip, and my mind just wasn't working.

I took a quick look around.

What a horrible place. Crowded. Dirty. The parking lot was still packed, even though it was almost 4 pm.