Page 32

CHAPTER 31

Hunter

They’re louder than usual tonight.

Not in volume. Just in presence.

Laughter bubbling under every word, the clatter of spoons and spice jars, the rhythmic smack of a knife against a chopping board.

A beat I don’t belong to, but one I can’t seem to stop syncing with.

I sit at the edge of the dining table, fingers ghosting over my laptop keyboard, pretending I’m still working.

There’s a burner phone charging beside me, an encrypted tab open and a half-finished report on surveillance blind spots.

Important, technically.

But right now, all I can hear is the sizzle of something in the pan and the sound of Alana’s laugh spilling through the air.

Tessa throws chopped tomatoes into a bowl like it’s a sport.

Alana’s standing barefoot at the stove, swaying slightly to a song that isn’t playing.

And she’s wearing my hoodie again.

The one I gave her weeks ago when we went to the grocery store together.

She said it was comfy.

Shrugged like it meant nothing.

But it clings to her frame like it was made for her, sleeves too long, hem skimming the tops of her thighs.

And I can’t stop staring.

That stupid, borrowed thing makes me want to wrap my arms around her and claim her.

Consequences be damned.

Tessa tosses a tortilla onto a plate and points her spoon at me.

“You’re awfully quiet over there, Mr. Mysterious.”

I don’t look up.

“Working.”

“Oh, please,” she says, walking over and leaning in to peek at my screen.

“What are you even—”

I snap the laptop closed.

Tessa startles, then grins like she’s found buried treasure.

“Classified?”

I tilt my head.

“Something like that.”

“Oh, now I need to know.”

“No, you don’t.”

“You’re no fun.”

I say nothing, just reach for the glass of water beside me and take a sip like I didn’t just shut down like a switchblade.

Alana doesn’t say a word either, but when I glance at her, she’s watching.

Quiet. Curious.

“How’s it feel?” Tessa asks suddenly, voice casual but laced with intent.

“Going fake public with our girl.”

Alana freezes.

I glance up slowly. “Convincing,” I say.

Tessa smirks. “You two had chemistry. Even Jenyx said so. She texted me right after you left. ‘They’re adorable, like a pair of silver wolves’. Her words.”

Alana lets out a breath and turns back to the stove.

“You two are texting now? That woman’s unhinged.”

“You guys really sold it. All the touching, whispering, boyfriendy vibes… you sure you haven’t done that before?” Tessa adds, sliding past me to set the table.

I meet Alana’s eyes again.

Hold them. Her lips part, just slightly, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Just playing the role,” I answer, voice low.

Tessa raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push.

Instead, she pauses, biting her lip thoughtfully.

“Actually, random, but can I ask you something?”

I nod.

“For the winter launch,” she says, sliding forks onto the table, “we need extra security. It’s at the a local gallery, late night, high value pieces. Think your company could help out?”

Alana looks up then.

Surprised, maybe. Curious.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll handle it.”

Alana gives her a sideways look.

“I thought you didn’t trust anyone with our events.”

Tessa shrugs.

“I trust him.”

Then dinner happens in a blur of messy tacos, stolen glances and too much hot sauce.

Tessa curses dramatically every time her mouth catches fire.

Alana rolls her eyes and refills her glass.

Then the girls watch trash TV.

I pretend I’m still working.

But I’m not. I’m watching.

Not the TV.

I’m watching her.