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PROLOGUE
Sebastian
I hadmy doubts about this hunt and whether it would at all quiet my racing thoughts, but the embrace of the natural world around me is a welcome surprise. Thoughts of Julia—and all the joy and complications wrapped around her—are finally quieted somewhat as I walk beside my father and the other men we have invited along with us for the hunt. We are here in Hungary to find a red deer, but more importantly, to woo this group of potential partners. Some carry their rifles and follow us with the ease of experienced hunters, while others are more in awe of the setting as a whole.
We had set off into the forest just after dawn, where the trees tower above us, and the underbrush is thick and dense. The sun filters through the branches, casting a gentle glow upon the forest floor, where the leaves crunch and rustle beneath our boots.
It’s been an uneventful hunt so far, but I personally don’t mind. The air is crisp and cool on my face, and I feel the moisture in the air as the sun burns off the dew. It’s quiet, besides the sounds of the men next to me. Luckily, they are aware enough not to scare away any potential prey and only speak in hushed whispers.
As the day progresses, the woods come alive with a symphony of sounds; the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the occasional snap of a twig, which sets everyone on the edge of anticipation. My eyes scan the surrounding trees, looking for any sign of movement or life, but the colors around us are blending together to create a natural camouflage, concealing the creatures that dwell within.
Occasionally, a flash of bright red or brown, indicating the presence of a deer, captures our attention, but they are elusive, disappearing into the underbrush as quickly as they appeared. But we are close, and the energy of the group is rising.
We walk quietly through the woods, our footsteps muffled, when suddenly, we come upon a small herd of red deer grazing in a clearing, their majestic forms silhouetted against the background lit by the late afternoon sun. My heart beats faster as I watch the deer, hands tightening on my rifle. I slide a glance over to my father, who shakes his head once, and I let my grip relax. We had agreed to let the businessmen make the kills if possible, so they could go home with a positive memory of the trip, and therefore, our company.
I’m probably a better shot than all of them, but this isn’t about my skills, so reluctantly, I keep my rifle down as the rest of the group stir to life. Everyone looks at them with a mix of awe and excitement, the eyes of the non-hunters are wide with anticipation while the true hunters take their positions and raise their weapons, ready for the kill.
Slowly and carefully, they take aim at the deer, trying to minimize any disturbance to the herd. There are about half a dozen deer from my count, and there is no way that we will be able to tag them all, but once the shots ring out it’s unlikely we’ll be able to take any other groups by surprise, so I hope the shooters make it count.
With an enormous ‘crack’, the sound of the rifles echoes through the forest, and a few of the deer fall to the ground, their bodies limp and still. The others in the herd scatter, fleeing for safety, their powerful legs carrying them swiftly through the dense underbrush. We watch as they disappear into the forest, their forms becoming fainter and fainter until they are gone from sight.
“Good show!” Dad announces, laughing as he claps the successful shooters on the shoulders and shakes everyone’s hands. Where tense energy had blanketed the group at first, it is all celebration now.
The men who have managed to shoot the deer approach them cautiously, their eyes still fixed on the surrounding woods. The deer’s bodies lie still and peaceful, and once the hunters give the go ahead, the staff we brought with us move to collect their prizes for cleaning while the rest of us make our way back to my uncle's estate for a post-hunt meal.
As the deer are collected and we gather in a small group to discuss the rest of the day, heaping an obnoxious amount of praise on the men we hope will work with us in the future, there is a commotion coming from the woods behind us. At first, it almost sounds like an animal running through the trees towards us, but it quickly becomes apparent that it’s a member of my uncle Leopold’s staff on a small ATV, skidding to a stop and rushing over to my father.
The young man is breathless, as if he’s run the entire way to us instead of coming on a vehicle, and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a mobile phone that, bizarrely, looks to be still connected to a call as he hands it to Dad.
“Mr. Van den Bosch,” the staff member gasps, his body almost shaking as he stands in front of my dad. “We have an urgent call for you.”
I can tell Dad is about to complain about the interruption, but he seems to notice at the same moment I do how pale the young man is. My father takes the phone and walks a few feet away to take the call in private, but it’s no use. Everyone’s attention is on him.
“What’s the meaning of this?” I snap at the young employee, who flinches.
“Well, I–” he stutters. “I think—”
But he doesn’t get to finish his thought. Dad doesn’t make much sound as the news hits him, but we all watch as the mobile slips from his fingers and he sinks to his knees here in the undergrowth. He’s shaking so hard that by the time I make it over to him—so quickly that I don’t even remember moving—I can hear the leaves crackling under his knees.
“Gone…” he whimpers, cradling his head in his hands, his eyes shutting tight. “Dear God, they’re gone…”
Heart now galloping, I snatch the phone off the ground, putting it against my ear. “This is Sebastian. Who the hell is this and what the fuck is going on?”
The person on the other line takes a second to collect themselves before answering. “It’s Willem, Sebastian.”
“Willem?” The fact it’s my family’s attorney and one of Dad’s most loyal friends on the other side of the line gives me pause, making it somewhat even worse. For this call to be an emergency, something terrible must have happened. I feel panic setting in as I continue observing my distressed father, who remains on the floor just as before.
I collect myself and clearing my throat, I ask, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know how else to say this, Sebastian, but…” he stops mid-sentence, as if reconsidering his words, before sighing loudly.
“Willem, speak!”
“Your mother and siblings have been killed in an auto explosion. It was, ah…your vehicle, I believe, and the explosion occurred before they were even able to leave the estate.” Willem inhales slowly, letting his words crash into me. “Sebastian, I am so, so sorry–”
I hang up the call, fisting the small phone in my hand until my arm is quivering and I hear the faint cracking of the plastic casing. I throw it back down to the ground before I can break it irreparably, emotions hitting me like claps of thunder, one after the other. I can see Dad from the corner of my eye, now with his forehead touching the earth and his hands fisted in his own hair, but it’s like he’s a million miles away from me, not mere inches.
I stumble away until I can lean on a nearby oak, my hand pressed over my heart, which I think may explode in my chest just like my car did with almost everyone I’ve ever loved inside of it. Rage hits me first, but by the time I’m against the tree it’s fled, leaving a gaping chasm of grief that I can’t even begin to process. It’s hard to even take a breath.
