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Hunter holds my gaze for a long time before finally responding, “I’m going to my room now.”
I press my lips together to stop myself from begging him to stay. It’s not only the sneaking suspicion that he’s not a fan of what Ryker has in mind for me, either. Though that’s a big part of it.
I want him to hold me.
I want his nearness and his warmth and the completely bizarre sense of safety I feel when I’m in his arms.
He’s the last person in the world I should feel safe with, but it’s been a tough week. Why should things make sense now?
He doesn’t leave, just stares at me. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, and the way his nostrils flare makes it obvious he’s fighting something. What is it? Guilt? Is he capable of that? I wish I knew.
What I know is I don’t want him to leave. I wish I could stand and hold out my arms and beg him not to go.
I won’t beg. I’ll die with at least a little dignity—if I’m not able to get away, that is. But I’ll for damn sure try.
“Hunter? I thought you were going to your room.” Ryker gives him a little shove, not hard enough to make him stumble but enough to get the point across. “You’d better get going.”
Hunter’s eyes never leave me and I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think there was regret in them. That the hardened criminal is capable of regret. Then again, he loves and protects his sister, right? He has weaknesses the same as anybody else. I’m wondering if I’ve become one of those weaknesses. Whether I was the thing he and Ryker were fighting about.
If that’s the case… will he stop this insanity?
His hands, hanging by his sides, clench into fists, and it looks like Hunter’s on the verge of saying something. He draws a breath as I hold mine and this is it. This is when he’s going to stand up for me and save my life. He will not back down.
All it takes is his eyes meeting Ryker’s for him to slump just a little. “Yeah. I’m going.”
No, no, this can’t be. He can’t do this. Not when he was so close to saving me. I refuse to believe it, even as he turns away and trudges to the door leading out to the hall. Even when he touches the doorknob, then turns it.
I only accept it’s no use when he’s out of the room and the door closes.
And my heart feels like it’s about to tear itself out of my chest, because even with the way he looked at me with obvious regret, he’ll still let this happen.
I’m still going to die.
