Page 101 of Hunt Me

“That’s different.” Dmitri doesn’t even look embarrassed. “That was strategic.”

“That was stalking.” But Tash is smiling.

The conversation flows. Wine disappears. Laughter fills the spaces between words.

I watch my brothers with their women. Maya sits at the table quietly, nursing her wine, but seems content to observe rather than participate. There’s something different about her—a weight she’s carrying that goes beyond the trauma of the warehouse.

As the meal winds down and people begin to disperse, Maya finally speaks up. “Iris, can we talk? Privately?”

Iris stands immediately, following Maya into the adjoining sitting room. I pretend to focus on my laptop, but I’m acutely aware of their conversation—the low murmur of voices, the long silences, and then Iris’s voice cracking slightly as she speaks.

They return together twenty minutes later. Iris’s eyes are red-rimmed, though she’s clearly tries to hide it. Maya looks lighter somehow, despite the sadness etched across her features. She squeezes Iris’s shoulder before retreating to her room.

Iris slides back into the seat beside me, her hand immediately seeking mine. I don’t ask questions—just lace my fingers through hers and hold tight.

Later, when we’re alone, she’ll tell me. Maya’s taking the job in Seattle. She needs a fresh start, needs distance from the danger, needs to reclaim her life. Iris understands, even though it breaks her heart.

But for now, we sit in the aftermath of dinner as my brothers and their women filter out to their respective corners of the compound.

Tomorrow we will walk into a federal building and sit across from the people who murdered Iris’s parents.

My fingers tighten around the wine glass.

“You okay?” Iris’s voice, low. Just for me.

“Fine.”

“Liar.”

I meet her eyes. Blue like ice. Like the moment before a system crashes.

“Tomorrow—”

“We’ll handle it.” She touches my hand under the table. “We always do.”

I want to believe her. Want to believe that brilliant minds and careful planning will be enough.

But Morrison had backup. Resources. The full weight of the federal government is behind him.

We have wine and bravado.

And now we know that Iris is losing one of the few people who grounded her outside of me and my family.

Nikolai catches my eye across the table. Raises his glass slightly.

A silent message. We’ve got your back.

Dmitri’s already planning contingencies. I can see it in the way his eyes track the exits. The way he positions himself between Tash and the door.

Erik’s counting threats. Mapping escape routes. His training never switches off.

We’re Ivanovs. We’ve survived worse.

Except we haven’t. Not really.

This isn’t rival families, business disputes, or territory wars.

Coming up against the government is entirely new for us.