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He narrowed his eyes. “You’re trying to goad me?”
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get played by this man again.
Fuck.
“Pretend you aren’t afraid all you like,” he sneered, “you can’t hide from me. Just because you’re so eager to die, doesn’t mean I’m in a rush to help you get there. I have plans, Huntsman, and I don’t deviate from my plans.”
Especially not one’s a decade in the making.
Chapter 5:
Hunter shouldn’t have pressed his luck but he’d let irritation get in the way of logic, and, yeah, maybe part of what Odin had said was also true.
He’d understood what he was doing there, but…
He ground his teeth and dropped his head against the cushy pillow. He’d been an idiot in more ways than one. This whole time on the run, he’d assumed that Odin knew the truth. While he’d never cared about Meg per se, Odin had always been kind to her. Knowing how his world worked, Hunter had thought Odin understood the reason he’d been forced to lead him into that forest. He didn’t expect forgiveness, but understanding…Odin had been good to his people. Hunter had stupidly figured he and Meg counted even though they were never official members of the family.
His recollection of that day was also murky at best. He recalled how nervous he was tricking Odin, how sick he felt. How his heart had felt like it was breaking…Hunter had had a secret crush on the younger guy for over a year by that point. He hadn’t wanted to hurt him. Had especially loathed the idea of killing him.
But no matter how big the crush was, when it’d come down to it, Hunter had chosen his sister’s life over Odin’s.
Or at least, he’d tried.
He’d been so sick to his stomach about what he’d been about to do that he’d purposefully cut himself on the knife in his jacket pocket. He’d pressed the blade against his palm, trying to focus on the sting there instead of the voice in his head screaming at him not to go through with Isa’s plan.
His hand had been slicked in his blood by the time he’d finally stopped and drawn his gun, droplets rolling down his forearm as he aimed at Odin’s chest. He’d gone to pull the trigger, not wanting to hesitate and risk changing his mind but…
Something had stopped him. Something he’d spent years figuring out and wished he hadn’t.
In the end, his hand had shifted an inch to the side against his will and the bullet had torn through Odin’s shoulder. Odin had lived.
Meg had not.
But taking his sister hadn’t been enough for Isa. He’d wanted Hunter dead as well, and Hunter had only just managed to escape the city before anyone from the Frost family could find and catch him.
He’d been looking over his shoulder all these years, waiting for Isa Frost to pounce when he should have been worried about Snow.
Isa, like his namesake, was all ice, hardened and impossible to crack. He gave Hunter the chills just thinking about him. The complete opposite of Odin, Isa had platinum blond hair and glacier-blue eyes. When his family had first moved to Sixpence, he’d given most people the creeps with how still and silent he was.
But not Odin.
Odin had taken to Isa instantly, at least, if the rumors were to be believed. They’d already been considered a family for a couple of months by the time Hunter had been introduced to the Brumal princes. A part of him had always wondered what exactly it was that Odin saw in the other boy. What did Isa Frost have that Hunter didn’t?
Aside from wealth and power, of course.
In the looks department, when he wasn’t on the run, Hunter could hold his own and he knew it.
Not that his pretty face was going to do him any good here. Most likely the opposite, if he was reading between the lines correctly.
Odin had brought him to Club Cherry, the largest and most popular location in Liaand Norra. The building itself had a vast array of things to offer, like a regular dance club, a strip club, and even a high-end brothel where the clientele needed a membership to enter. Legal in Kiland Soto, prostitution was considered a job like any other with contracts and consent.
Hunter grunted, lips twisting cynically at his line of thinking. He knew better. People like Odin, people who ran a mass criminal organization, didn’t care about following the law. If he planned on forcing Hunter to partake in the shadier side of his business, there was nothing that could stop him, not even Hunter himself.
That was the worst part. The fact that he was so helpless in all of this. He needed to maintain a steady demeanor, at least give off the appearance that he was in control, otherwise he’d be chewed up and spit out faster than he could blink. This wasn’t his first time amongst the mafia, he knew what he needed to do.
But could he do it?
Odin still had the frustrating ability to strip him of all sense and reason. Even when he’d been digging his thumbs into his broken ribs, Hunter had been unable to look away, captured by the intensity of his dark eyes.
