Page 28 of The Hunter

I threw my arms over my head, bracing for pain. For teeth.

For death.

A gunshot tore through the air like a thunderclap, followed by an eerie silence.

I didn’t immediately react, too stunned to even breathe. But when several seconds passed without a wolf digging its teeth into my skin, I lowered my arms.

The wolf was gone.

But I wasn’t alone.

A figure loomed just beyond the tree line, the faint curl of smoke still rising from the barrel of a rifle. He was tall, broad, hidden in shadow.

I couldn’t see his face.

But I didn’t need to.

I knew.

It washim.

The man who took me.

Chapter Thirteen

Ariana

My eyes remained locked on him as he moved closer, each step slow. Deliberate. A dark silhouette emerging from the trees, gun slack at his side, and something large and shadowy padding beside him. A dog. Maybe a retriever of some kind, though the way it moved was more like a soldier than a pet.

The wolf had vanished. But this man, thisshadow, was somehow more dangerous.

I should run.

But I didn’t.

Couldn’t.

My body stayed glued to the ground, my breath fogging in the air, my socks soaked through and clinging like ice to my toes. My legs ached. My lungs burned. And my heart thudded so violently I thought it might crack my ribs from the inside. Still, I couldn’t move.

As he stepped into the clearing, the last wisps of shadow peeled away, and I finally saw his face.

Recognition hit me like a punch to the gut.

Broad shoulders. Rigid posture. Square jaw dusted with dark stubble. The same piercing green eyes I hadn’t been able to look away from the other night.

It was the man from the gala.

The one who watched me like I was a painting he’d studied but needed to see in person.

He’d traded the perfectly tailored suit for boots, jeans, and a winter coat, but even without the tux, power radiated from every inch of him.

“You,” I breathed, hate simmering beneath the lone syllable.

He didn’t speak. Just studied me, his gaze flicking down to my scraped hands, my trembling legs, the soaked socks clinging to frozen skin. He was cataloguing me, not with concern, but with precision. Like I was evidence. Or, more appropriately, his property.

“Is this why you were watching me all night at the gala?” I spat as I managed to pull myself to my feet. “Why you pretended to be interested in me?”

His only response was even more silence. I didn’t know if I was more angry he wouldn’t speak or that a part of me had been flattered by his attention.