Page 131 of Only the Hunter

I grit my teeth. Bite back the not smart criticism that is pointless now.

The Uber notification pings faintly through the line.

“It’s here.”

“Describe it.”

“Black Camry. Plate matches.”

“Driver?”

“Older woman. Gray hair. Looks bored.”

“Good. Walk directly. Don’t hesitate. Get in and lock the door.”

I hear the café door open again. Wind. Footsteps. Car door.

The thunk of it closing.

“I’m in.”

“Lock it.”

“I did.”

I exhale and flex the fingers on my left hand that were balled around the keys.

“Stay on with me.”

Radio music filters through in the background.

“I don’t see him,” she says after a moment.

“You might not.”

She’s quiet the rest of the drive. I can hear the subtle tremor she’s trying to hide in her breathing.

This shook her.

What the fuck, Brie?

I’m outside her townhome when the Camry turns onto her street.

I’ve scanned the block twice. Checked blind spots. Noticed a delivery van with a logo I don’t recognize.

The Uber pulls to the curb.

I’m moving before it’s fully stopped.

She opens the door and steps out, and the sight of her—alive, intact, together and standing—tightens my throat and gives rise to an unexpected surge of emotion I can’t quite name.

I reach her in three strides.

My hands land on her shoulders first.

Solid. Real.

Skin unscathed.