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I know this man—at least, I think I do—dark hair, dark haunting eyes, his face gaunt and unkempt.
I quickly pull the phone away from my ear, end the call, and dial the police. The man stands there for a moment, simply staring up at my window. Then, he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, tipping his head slightly, and walks down the street, not turning back.
My finger hovers over the ‘call’ button. The police won’t help me. For all I know, they are in someone else’s pocket who wants me dead.
I went to them when my close call happened, and all they did was take a report. They didn’t believe me because I was a girl on the streets. I’ll never forget the look on their faces and the snide smirks that made me not even tell them the whole story.
I’ve always been good at running. Hiding even. Since my near-death experience, I have moved three times and worked at three different diners.
Time to move.
Slowly, I back away from the window and race to my bedroom, frantically pulling out my suitcase and a duffel bag that I know fits all my belongings. Pulling all my drawers open, I throw what little I have into it. In the bathroom, I put everything back into my toiletry bag, which sits on the bathroom sink as a ‘just in case.’
I can’t believe I’m having to move again. Fear seizes my chest as I think back on the phone call from the man who called me his daughter—it made my blood run as cold as ice. The family I don’t know sounds messed up and dangerous, not people I want to be associated with. Then there’s Hunter. I’m not sure what to make of him yet. There’s a side of him that intrigues me and makes me want to know more, but I don’t like how he thinks he’s going to own me.
A sharp knock at the door startles me. The eyeshadow palette in my hands clatters to the floor at my feet. A rainbow of eyeshadow colors spills around me—blues, purples, and grays. But I can’t move.
Another loud bang finally ignites a fire in me to stir a little, cautiously walking to the door. Unsettled, I stop a couple of feet from it. “Who is it?” I yell.
“Me.” My heart leaps, and I move to unlock it in an instant.
Hunter stands there, his brow furrowed. His hooded eyes trace my entire body as though he’s taking me in, like he’s checking to make sure I’m okay. His gaze moves behind me, then he steps through the doorway, gently pushing past me.
This time, Hunter’s not alone. The guy he was with at the diner walks in behind him. He doesn’t look at me. His focus is on my apartment.
“What’s happened? I saw you at your window, and you appeared worried.” Hunter’s voice is panicked, but there’s also a hint of concern.
He stops peering through the window I was just standing at and approaches me. He’s not in the same suit as he was last night. This navy blue suit brings out the warm brown of his eyes. When he stops in front of me, his hand comes up and brushes the hair from my face. My eyes instantly close at his gentle touch, but it is also dark, mysterious, and in some way, threatening. “What happened?” he asks again.
My eyes flick open. “I...ah...I...”
“Aelina, I’m not the bad guy here. You’ve got to know this.”
I shake my head and frown, taking a step back. “I don’t even know you. I was hoping our chat last night was a dream, yet here you are once again,” I yell, pointing at him.
“Landon, I think it’s clear,” he calls to the other guy roaming around my small apartment.
My focus shifts to him where he stands by the couch. My gaze goes to my room of its own accord, a space I really hope they don’t check. If they do, they’ll see my suitcase splayed open and everything I own shoved in.
Hunter must notice, and it dawns on me that nothing gets past him. “Landon, check in there,” he directs, pointing to my bedroom.
He moves to head in that direction, and I quickly step in front of him. “No,” I demand.
Landon looks between Hunter and me, confusion passing across his features.
Hunter crosses his arms over his chest. “Why? What are you hiding? And you still haven’t told me what’s got you upset.”
I jolt back defensively. “I’m not upset. I’m angry.” I stomp my foot. “I hate that you’ve just shown up and think you own me.” I release a breath. “Because you don’t.”
Hunter’s eyes don’t leave mine, and I stand my ground in front of the doorway to my bedroom. “Landon, can you please give us a moment?”
“Yes, sir.” His voice is stone-cold and menacing.
Panic sets in, making my skin prickle with goose bumps.
Once Landon leaves the room, which I assume is to wait outside the front door in case I attempt to run, Hunter takes my shoulders and moves my entire body away from the door. “Don’t do that. Stop being a dick and bossing me around,” I snap, following him as he walks into my bedroom.
He stares down at my full suitcase on the floor, and I can’t help the sigh that escapes my lips. He looks at me through narrowed eyes.
