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When he looked at Hunter, it was the complete opposite.
He was so relieved that the Huntsman was okay, that they’d made it out of this alive and together, that his heart truly felt like it was about burst straight out of his chest. If there weren’t so many people there, he would have scooped Hunter into his arms and captured his mouth, and kissed him with all the desperation and wildness swirling in his gut.
It’d all happened so fast, and yet for a moment there, he’d been all but consumed by the sheer panic that Hunter was going to get hurt. That he wouldn’t be able to stop Isa from taking him, the same way he’d already stolen everything else from Odin in the past.
The whole ordeal, from start to finish, had been the most nerve-wracking, terrifying moment in Odin’s entire life—including when he’d been on the run—and yet Yule, that bastard, dared to claim it’d been anticlimactic?
Most of it was still a blur in his mind because of how tense it’d all been, something that Odin would have to sit and pick through later, when he was somewhere quiet and safe, with Hunter at his side.
Another hovercar pulled up then and Arl climbed out, bowing to Odin and handing over a set of keys. He glanced at Isa and then met Odin’s gaze. “What should we do about the Frost Dominus, boss?”
“Technically,” Yule turned toward them, slipping his hands causally into his pockets, as though there wasn’t a dead mafia leader less than two feet away from his blood-stained boots, “since he was killed by another Brumal member, the one who defeated him takes the title. Hunter here is the new Frost Dominus.”
Odin made a feral sound and took a step forward, momentarily seeing red, but Hunter put himself between the two, stopping him in his tracks before he could do something stupid and rash.
“He’s just running his mouth as per usual,” Hunter shrugged. “He didn’t mean anything by it.” He motioned to Yule with a hard expression. “Did you?”
“No,” Yule shook his head, smartly taking the out. “Not at all.”
While he wasn’t wrong, Odin was already determined to kill the next person who tried tacking on the name Frost to his Huntsman.
“Take care of this,” Hunter motioned to Isa, scowling. “Don’t have the body destroyed just yet, we might need it to prove to any of Frost’s remaining followers that he’s actually dead. But get it out of here and put it somewhere safe for now.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Yule nodded, and he didn’t sound like he meant the title mockingly when he said it. He even sobered some as he waved at Arl to help and immediately went to work following Hunter’s order.
“Come.” Odin held out his hand toward the Huntsman, waiting for him to take it before he led him to the car. Once the passenger side door was opened, Hunter didn’t need any more prompting and slipped quickly inside. The fact he wasn’t resisting or being snarky told Odin everything he needed to know about his current mood, and he sighed as he entered the vehicle himself.
Their final fight with Isa had taken place only a couple of blocks from the club, and the drive itself would take less than five minutes typically. They’d only made it two, however, before the summer storm hit.
A boom of thunder clapped above them, followed by a burst of lightning bright enough to light up the darkened corners and alleyways. The downpour was sudden and intense, sheets of water slamming down all around them, instantly making it impossible to see even with the windshield wipers on at full blast.
“At least the evidence is being washed away in case the police decide to do their jobs for once,” Hunter said.
“I own the police,” Odin reminded.
“Right. Pull over,” Hunter suggested, the rain still coming, only to have Odin refuse with a curt shake of his head.
Isa might have been defeated, and news may travel fast, but not that fast. He wouldn’t feel at ease until they were off the streets and back in the club, where he could guarantee Hunter would be safe.
Instead of pushing it, Hunter leaned back in his seat, staring out the window as Odin inched the car along in a crawl.
The five-minute ride turned into fifteen, but they eventually pulled into the underground garage, the sound of the pounding rain instantly cut off, drawing attention to the fact neither of them had spoken the entire way.
Sun met them at the entrance, glancing between the two of them, no doubt noticing their matching stoic expressions. He stepped back from the doors when the two of them walked through, clearly unsure of what to say.
“We’re not to be disturbed,” Odin instructed. “Not for any reason.”
“Understood, sir.” Sun dipped his head and then turned, seemingly to relay the message.
Odin reached for Hunter’s hand once more, linking their fingers and tugging him after him toward the elevators. He kept hold of him even when the metal doors slid shut, sealing them in together, and keyed in the private code that would bring them up to the third floor.
“I know,” Hunter’s voice was soft, not so much timid as it was resigned. He kept his gaze straight ahead, staring at the fuzzy outline of the two of them reflected in the closed doors.
He tipped his head. “Know what?”
“I made the same mistake twice. Only a moron would have fallen for the same trick, but it was Corbi, and it barely even occurred to me that she would pull something like that. I feel so stupid.”
Was…that what he’d been thinking about all this time? Odin had been certain shooting Isa was what had Hunter so closed off but had he been wrong?
