Page 81 of Only the Hunter

Neither does she.

“You don’t get to do this,” I say quietly. “You don’t get to act like I’m the one holding back when you’re the one who maintains boundaries you’re not ready to cross.”

Her breath hitches. “What makes you think I’m not ready?”

“Because if you were,” I say, voice dropping, “you wouldn’t still be standing so far away.”

The challenge stands between us.

For half a second, I think she’s going to close the distance.

Her eyes drop to my mouth.

My hand twitches at my side, aching to reach for her.

Then her phone buzzes.

The spell breaks.

She pulls the phone from her pocket with shaking hands.

Her face drains of color as she reads.

“What?”

“Rhodes,” she says, and her voice doesn’t sound like it belongs to the woman who was just inches from my mouth. “The NGO contact. Her phone went dark. Deleted from personnel directory.”

Fuck.

“She quit,” I say.

“Or they took her.”

The reality of the case crashes back in.

For the best.

“You were right to push.” It’s a reluctant admission, but one she deserves. “She was willing to talk. And the photos would have been useful.”

“And you were right to pull me out,” she admits. “They were waiting.”

Neither of us moves.

“This isn’t the end of this.” After I say it, I recognize my statement could be misconstrued, so I add, “We’ll figure this out.”

She looks up at me, eyes still bright. “Yes. We will.”

But she doesn’t mean the case—or that’s what I choose to believe.

She walks away, stopping at the bedroom threshold. She doesn’t look over her shoulder, instead speaking to the room in front of her.

“I need space,” she says quietly. “Not protection. Not control. Space.”

Then she closes the door.

I stand there for a long time, staring at the paneled door, heart rate elevated, processing.

This case just escalated.