Page 82 of Hunt Me

“Don’t.” Her voice comes out hollow. “Just don’t.”

My chest tightens.

She told me to stop. Begged me to leave the Ivanovs alone and warned me I was playing with fire.

I didn’t listen then either.

“I should’ve listened to Alexi.” The confession tastes bitter. “He said going home would put you in danger.”

“Then why didn’t you stay with him?”

Valid question.

One that I can’t answer without admitting the truth—I panicked. Saw Alexi gathering his brothers, making plans, taking control of my vendetta.

My investigation.

My revenge.

Pride made me walk out that door.

Pride got Maya hurt.

“Because I’m an idiot.” I yank against the flex-cuffs. They don’t budge. “Because I thought I could protect you better than he could.”

“How’s that working out?”

The sarcasm cuts deep.

Maya finally looks at me. Mascara tracks down her cheeks, mixing with blood. Eyes red-rimmed and accusing.

“You were supposed to be the smart one, Iris. The one who thinks ten steps ahead.” She laughs without humor. “But you can’t even follow basic instructions when someone’s trying to keep you alive.”

She’s right.

Alexi laid out the danger in explicit terms. Told me Morrison would be monitoring me. Explained how any contact with Maya would light us up like a beacon.

I went anyway.

Convinced myself I knew better.

The door opens again.

Different guard this time. Tall, muscle-bound, face like carved granite. He cuts Maya’s restraints first, hauling her to her feet.

“Wait—” I start.

“Shut up.” He doesn’t even glance at me. “You talk when Morrison says you can talk.”

Maya stumbles as he drags her toward the door. She looks back once, fear and betrayal warring in her expression.

Then she’s gone.

The door slams shut.

I’m alone with the buzzing fluorescent light and the camera’s blinking red eye.

Minutes crawl by. Could be ten. Could be thirty. Time loses meaning in rooms like this—that’s the point. Sensory deprivation. Isolation. Break you down until compliance seems easier than resistance.