Page 63 of Hunt Me

Because once upon a time, she was.

“You thought we did it.” I keep my voice neutral, non-accusatory. “That’s why you targeted us.”

“Your family has connections everywhere. Government contracts, intelligence ties.” She meets my gaze steadily. “Andthe Ivanov name kept appearing in the margins of files I shouldn’t have accessed. I assumed?—”

“That we were complicit.”

“Yes.” No hesitation, no apology. “I wanted it to be you. Needed someone to blame who I could actually reach.”

The government’s an amorphous enemy—faceless bureaucrats hiding behind plausible deniability. But the Ivanovs? We’re flesh and blood, right here in Boston.

“And now you know it wasn’t us.”

“Now I know Kiril Volkov’s connected somehow. That Project Nightshade is still active. That Morrison, the agent who took over the investigation, has CIA black ops experience.” Her jaw tightens. “And that I’ve been chasing the wrong fucking target for years.”

I cup her face, forcing her to look at me. “So we pivot. Find Morrison, trace his connections, dig into Nightshade until we know exactly who gave the order.”

She blinks. “We?”

“You think I’m letting you hunt government assassins alone?” I stroke my thumb across her cheekbone. “I’ll help you get to the bottom of this. Make them pay for what they did.”

Something breaks in her expression—hope and despair warring for dominance.

“Alexi.” She covers my hand with hers, that sad smile twisting her lips. “No one can take on the government. They have unlimited resources, classified tech, legal immunity for operations deemed necessary for national security. Morrison’s probably protected by a dozen layers of bureaucratic insulation. Nightshade’s buried under classification levels that don’t officially exist.”

“You underestimate me,detka.”

Her eyes widen slightly.

“The Ivanov family didn’t build an empire by respecting boundaries.” I lean in closer, my voice dropping. “We have our own resources. Our own tech. Our own ways of making people disappear when necessary.”

“This isn’t some rival organization or corrupt politician?—”

“I don’t care if it’s the fucking president himself.” The words come out sharp, final. “They murdered your parents. Left you trapped in a car listening to your mother die. They made you into Phantom because you were too terrified to exist as yourself.”

Her breath catches.

“So yes, we’re going after them. Every agent involved, every bureaucrat who signed off, everyone who covered it up.” I press my forehead to hers. “And when we’re done, they’ll wish mechanical failure was all they had to worry about.”

Tears spill down her cheeks, silent and devastating.

“Why?” Her voice breaks on the word. “Why would you do that for me? Risk your family, your empire, everything you’ve built—for what? Revenge that isn’t even yours?”

I kiss her.

Hard enough to silence the questions, gentle enough to answer them.

When I pull back, I keep her face cradled between my palms, thumbs brushing away the wetness on her cheeks.

“You know why,” I whisper against her lips.

“Alexi—”

“Because you’re the only person I’ve ever wanted.” The admission tears out of me, raw and honest in a way I’ve never been with anyone. “Not just physically, though fuck,detka, I want you so badly it hurts. But intellectually. Emotionally. Every part of you challenges me, excites me, makes me feel alive in ways I didn’t know I was dead.”

More tears fall, faster now.

“I’ve spent twenty-nine years looking for something that would make me feel less empty. Built systems, conquered networks, proved myself a thousand times over.” I press my forehead to hers again, needing the contact. “None of it mattered. None of it filled the void.”