Page 72 of Hunted

Picturesque. Unassuming.

More importantly, invisible.

I bought it through twelve shell corporations layered so carefully even I sometimes need a spreadsheet to remember which name owns what. No Hannigan money, traces of my father or trace of scandal.

Aunt Fiona, my only remaining relative moved to Europe four years ago, fleeing the disgrace that followed my father’s death like rot.

I doubt she’d recognise me now.

I kill the engine, and the silence settles thick and welcome.

Inside, the house smells faintly of cedar and lemon polish. Everything is exactly where I left it. No disturbed air or foreign scent.

I check anyway.

Perimeter wards are intact, motion sensors quiet. Windows sealed. Internal cameras clean.

Safe.

Or so I tell myself.

I head straight for the bathroom and turn on the tap. Steam rises in lazy spirals as the tub fills hotter than necessary. I strip and slide into the water until it laps at my collarbones.

The heat seeps into me slowly but dammit, it doesn’t chase him out.

The rooftop. His hand at my throat. The way he held me suspended over nothing.

How he erased Malachi’s touch, voice dangerously low when he said, You do not touch her.

My stomach tightens.

Why?

Why does he want Lyra so badly? Why does it feel like something is tightening around him too?

I sink lower into the bath, stifling a half-desperate, wholly aggravated moan.

I want to call Selphine.

I do not want to call Selphine.

Calling the witch means admitting I’m in deeper than planned. It means enduring whatever poetic dressing-down she has prepared for my stupidity.

But I need answers more than pride.

An hour later, clean and dressed in a soft cotton robe, I stand in my kitchen staring at my phone like it personally offended me.

‘Fine,’ I mutter, thumbing the call button before courage deserts me.

She answers on the third ring. ‘What have you done now?’

I close my eyes briefly. ‘That obvious, huh?’

‘You only call when you’re either bleeding or frightened.’

‘Good news,’ I say dryly. ‘It’s only one of those today.’

Silence stretches.