Page 16 of Haunting the Hunter

The comforting smell of fresh coffee grounds fills my nose. Bitter and earthy. Calli always makes it strong. I make my way to the kitchen and pour myself a mug, leaning against the counter like it’s the only thing keeping me upright.

I can feel myself slipping. The line between what’s real and what’s not blurs more every day. The anxiety, tight chest, blurred vision, my hands that won’t fucking steady.

I grip my mug tighter. Maybe it’s hallucinations, or panic attacks. It doesn’t matter—I have to push forward. But this presence, this thing in the dark that won’t leave me alone. Even now, I feel it. Despite my logic, I don’t want to break it apart like I do with everything else. It makes me feel safe.

I don’t know what that says about me. I constantly remind myself to focus. To be better, stronger, less distracted. But thisghostis there every time I close my eyes. Something thatshouldbe an unwelcome distraction, but if I’m honest? I don’t want to lose it. I shudder at the thought, recalling the events of last night.

“Jesus, Cade—you look like shit.” My eyes shoot to Calli, who is already sitting at the table. Snapping out of my thoughts, I grunt and take a long sip of my coffee, ignoring her.

She stares and doesn’t drop it.

“What?” I finally snap, sharper than I intended.

Her eyebrows lift. “Nothing. You just look… off. Didn’t sleep?”

“Don’t start,” I growl.

And there’s that look she does. The one where her mouth wants to fight but her eyes know she’s already lost. She shrinks a little in her chair and I instantly feel like shit. Not because I yelled, but because she’s used to it.

She exhales, attempting to deflect my misdirected anger. “So… What’s going on with the mission or whatever?”

I sit across from her, mug between my hands. “Allen White’s gone dark.”

Her brows pull together. “What do you mean gone dark? Isn’t he the guy whose daughter—”

“Yeah. Olivia White. I was waiting for the news of her death to drop. Instead? They ran a story saying both she and Allen died in the crash. Same day.” Honestly not surprising. What were they going to say?Heiress stabbed in the neck during orgy?That’d be fucking hilarious.

Calli blinks, surprised. “What the hell?”

“Exactly. It’s bullshit. He faked his death. Slipped out under a new alias. Jack tracked him to L.A. and then—nothing. Radio silence.”

She frowns. “You think he’s with the Covenant?”

I nod. “Or he’s hiding with one of their upper-ring bastards. Either way, we’ll find him.”

There’s a pause. Then she leans forward slightly. “What about his wife?”

I raise a brow. “Rosa?”

“Yeah. Could she be a way in?”

I shake my head, dismissing the idea. “Nah. Rosa White’s all flash. Parties. Spending money. Showing off. She was never close with Allen in the cult’s inner circles.” I breathe the next words through my teeth. Pissed off, not at her, but that he’s slipping through the cracks. “Not that I ever saw.”

Calli tilts her head, unconvinced. “Still might be worth looking into.”

I roll my eyes. “Sure. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The moment stretches, tense but quiet. Almost bearable.

Then Jack strolls in, humming some ungodly pop song, and goes straight for the coffeepot. Shirtless, barefoot, bedhead in full glory.

“You two look chipper this morning.”

Both of us groan.

Calli mutters, “It’s not even seven. Why are you like this?”

Jack shrugs, pouring his coffee. “Some of us are emotionally well-adjusted.”