The Predator (Dark Verse Book 1)

by RuNyx .

  Stillness.

  “And she didn’t.”

  Such stillness.

  The air heavy between them, like it had been chafed too much, rubbed raw and had swollen in pain.

  Morana closed the distance between them on shaky legs, until she stood beside him, and looked up into his face, placing a hand on his scruffy chin like he’d held hers just moments ago. He turned his face towards her, a clean slate wiped of all expression, his eyes vacant, dead, just looking out at her.

  “That’s what you hate me for, don’t you?” she whispered in the air between them, her voice wavering slightly. “Because I was found and she wasn’t?”

  His lips trembled for a split second before they were pursed again, a movement so minute, so quick, so real she’d have missed it had she not been standing so close to him.

  His jaw clenched.

  Morana let his chin go and looked down. “How can you even stand to look at me? God, how can you let me stay here when you hate me for…”

  “I never hated you for that.”

  Barely a whisper but the words reached her.

  Her eyes swung up to his. His were still devoid of all emotions.

  But she knew he was telling the truth. A man like him, who’d made his hatred so honest since the beginning wouldn’t lie about it when blatantly questioned.

  “Then what do you hate me for?” she asked softly, all her speculations, confusions, crashing a hard death.

  The light in the room dimmed even more, shadows elongating as the clouds took over the sky.

  He broke their gaze, looking away.

  She waited for him to take a few breaths, waited for him to look back at her, waited for him to speak. He didn’t.

  Anger flooded her veins with surprising speed.

  Grabbing a hold of his bicep, she shook it, tried to shake it, gritting her teeth. “Tell me, damn you! Tell me why you want to kill me. Tell me why you didn’t when you could have. Tell me why you’re so bothered with hurting me when you promise me my death with every word that you speak. Tell me!”

  She was yelling by the end of her tirade, shaking his arm, her anger, her confusion, her frustration, her desire, all warring in a way she’d been so unfamiliar with before she’d met him, a way that had become her bedside companion now. She’d been abducted along with twenty-five other little girls, including his sister, and nobody had returned but her. She’d never been told this, never even had any indications, but clearly, it had been important enough for the anonymous person to tell her. And even though it could have been an understandable reason for his hatred, it wasn’t a reason at all.

  What the fuck was then?

  His blue eyes speared hers, a spark of anger in them giving them sudden life. His free hand came up to take a hold of her wrist as he pulled her hand away from that taut bicep, pulling her closer until suddenly they were nose to nose, his chest rising and falling as rapidly as hers, her heart pounding with a vengeance as she glared at him.

  “I don’t owe you a fucking thing,” he growled inches away from her mouth. “I do what I do. Only I need to know the reasons for it.”

  Morana growled back. “Not when they affect other people, which in this case happens to be me.”

  “Not my problem.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “It is if I start believing you’re just full of shit and hot air. You’re losing your touch, Predator.”

  His lips curled slightly at her sneering tone even as his eyes bore down upon hers with unwavering intensity, without a hint of amusement.

  “You forget I haven’t really touched you at all.”

  Her breath hitched even as she understood his deflection. He released her hand and climbed the stairs three at a time, his taut ass flexing as Morana watched him disappear back inside his room, once again leaving her without any answer at all.

  Morana closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and walked to her room, deciding, once and for all, that she was going to get some answers from somewhere no matter what she had to do. She needed those answers to keep hold on her sanity, which she could feel slipping away with multiple epiphanies sinking into her – the realization that she’d been a part of something so horrific at such a young age; the realization that only she had been lucky enough to have been recovered; the realization that everyone had deliberately kept her in the dark for some reason.

  Her bed was a mess from tossing and turning all night. Quickly making the bed, she dressed in dark jeans and the first top she could find from Amara’s collection. Putting on flats, she knotted her hair on top, adjusted her glasses, grabbed her keys and her gun, and walked out.

  Tristan Caine was in the kitchen, surprisingly dressed and freshly showered from the looks of it. He didn’t look up at her as he whipped eggs efficiently, his wrist moving at a quick speed, and she didn’t stop on the way to the elevator, not sparing him another glance.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Duh, asshole.

  She stayed silent and kept walking, her keys digging into her palm.

  “The guards won’t let you out until I say so.”

  The words stopped her in her tracks. Rage flooded her system as she whirled around to skewer him.

  “I didn’t get the memo that I’d been promoted to a prisoner,” she spoke in a cool voice, completely at odds with the riot inside her.

  His face remained blank as he placed the bowl on the counter and leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I’ve treated you as a guest here, Ms. Vitalio, we both know that,” he pointed out evenly. “You’ve had the access to your beloved car. You’ve had the freedom to come and go as you please. But yesterday, you changed the equation. You followed me the entire day, putting not only your life on the line but mine. Not just once, but repeatedly.”

  He pushed away from the counter and started walking towards her slowly, his arms still crossed and face hard, the shadows playing on his face, the longer scruff and stiff look making him seem even more intimidating than he was.

  “Do I need to remind you we’re on the cusp of war here?” he grit out, blue eyes sparking fire. “Just because your father hasn’t retaliated yet, don’t think he wouldn’t. I insulted him on his territory, not only by hitting him but by letting you stay here. That’s not considering your wild codes out there that need to be found.”

  He wasn’t wrong. But Morana didn’t utter a word, letting him speak as he stopped a few feet from her.

  “So yes, I’ve explicitly told the guards not to let you out unless I say so, because if your pretty neck is wrung before the codes are found, all of us are screwed.”

  Her heart stopped for a second before picking up pace again. “Is that why you didn’t kill me back at the casino? Why you haven’t killed me yet?”

  He tilted his face to the side, expression blank. “Of course.”

  A pinch of hurt curled inside her heart but she shoved it away, knowing this man had more layers to peel than a stubborn onion, and she couldn’t see them with teary eyes. She narrowed her gaze and focused on his eyes, seeing them without her own emotions clouding them.

  Her lips curled as she shook her head, turning away to leave before he could say anything, pressing the button for the elevator. “Tell the guards to let me through. Otherwise either they’ll get hurt, or I will. Dealer’s choice.”

  The doors swished open and she stepped inside, pushing the button for the parking and finally looking at him again.

  “Oh, and keep telling yourself that’s why you didn’t kill me, Mr. Caine. You might get some decent sleep.”

  His eyes flared and the doors closed, shutting him out, the mirrored panels reflecting her own form.

  Morana looked back at herself, at the smug smile on her face, and realized, that after a few minutes with the infuriating man, her hands had finally stopped shaking.

  She was in the graveyard, lying on the grass, looking up at the cloudy sky.

  This was her place.

  Morana had discovered th
is small little graveyard right beside the airport by accident a few years ago. It was closed off from the runway by a huge fenced wall. When she’d stumbled upon this place while driving around, she’d become addicted to the peace and quiet immediately. The ground had shaken beneath her feet and she’d looked up, to see the belly of a monstrous plane just a few feet above her head, taking flight. Something so, so much bigger than she had made her feel so small beneath it. That had been the moment she’d been hooked.

  She’d come to this place countless times since then. Just to lie back on the grass and see plane after plane leave every five minutes, the noise rumbling everywhere in her body, the seclusion of this place making it just hers. This was where she thought the best. She’d made a lot of brave decisions for herself here, and in the insanity of the past few weeks, she’d forgotten how much she missed this place.

  Lying on the soft grass now, Morana felt the tell-tale rumble in the ground and smiled up at the cloudy sky, folding her hands on her stomach as the rumble grew and grew until her entire body shook with the ground. With a roar, the nose of the plane came into view, followed by its underbelly, so vast and so close above her she could feel it in every pore, the noise deafening.

  She kept her eyes glued to the plane as it soared higher and vanished from sight, leaving behind utter silence.

  Making her feel alive and then leaving her with the dead. Quite literally.

  Morana chuckled at her own thoughts, before sobering, sorting out the mess her head had been for days, dividing and categorizing her problems into three neat stacks.

  The first stack was the codes. Although she’d almost written the sister program that would render those codes useless, it wasn’t that which worried her. Someone had hired Jackson, while pretending to be Tristan Caine, to woo and get her to make the codes, framing the other man without his knowledge. Had she not confronted him at his party, he probably wouldn’t have found out until it was too late.

  But who, and why? The person clearly knew Tristan Caine enough to want to frame him but how did they know about her? The only people who knew about her expertise were people who were into programming, and not many of them were found in the mob. Except within the span of a few weeks, she’d encountered two such people. Clearly, her anonymous source was an expert in finding things digitally, things even she hadn’t been able to find.

  Could the two be related? And what did it all have to do with the Alliance?

  The second stack was Tristan Caine. Even as everything inside her shied away from wanting to take a close look at whatever she felt about him, she forced herself to do exactly that. Denial wouldn’t do her any good.

  She desired him, she’d admitted that much. Not just a quick fuck against a wall as they didn’t look at each other. She wanted him to stroke her back like he’d done last night for a few seconds. She wanted, for once, for him to hold her breasts and not just make her wet with his fingers. She wanted to be able to caress that jaw and feel the scruff rasp against her palm. She wanted to feel the scars under her tongue. She wanted to trace those tattoos with her fingers. She’d desired him before and still did. Yet, her hunger was not appeased, not satiated, and it had been dumb of her to think one time would have been enough.

  She felt alive with him, she knew that too. But despite the casino incident, and last night when emotions had been running too close to the surface for both of them, and this morning when he’d needed to know if he’d hurt her, Morana, for some reason, felt safe with him. It was a stupid thing to feel with a man like him, but she couldn’t understand it.

  The moment she’d entered that casino and seen him, something in her had relaxed. The moment she’d left her father and come to him, something in her had collapsed. The moment she’d let him see her naked, something in her had snapped. He’d seen her vulnerable multiple times and nuzzled her jugular instead of ripping it out. He’d seen her feisty so many times and had fed her fire instead of dousing it. He’d seen her as her and despite everything, he’d not exploited that, like her own father had done so many times.

  She couldn’t ignore these things. She knew he was a complex man, a harder puzzle than anything she’d ever encountered. She knew he hated her, and if it wasn’t for being alive in place of his sister, it had to be much, much worse. Something he refused to talk to her about. Why?

  And, if it was worse, where did she even go forward with him? And yes, she wanted to. She didn’t know where, but somewhere.

  Another vibration startled her, but she realized it was too soon and too small to be another plane. It was her phone.

  Morana pulled it out of her pocket and looked at the screen.

  The third stack was calling her.

  Daddy dearest.

  Morana stared at the screen, her hand hovering over the green icon.

  She hadn’t spoken to him since that night. Any illusions she’d ever carried had been shattered not just by her fall, but by him using her as bait, never once asking for her. Now that she’d found out about the kidnappings, her own and others, she knew she had to talk to him.

  And yet her thumb couldn’t come down.

  The screen died.

  Another plane went.

  The screen lit up again.

  Morana took a deep breath and swallowed, making sure her voice remained completely even, and pressed on the green icon, putting the phone to her ear.

  “You’ve settled quite well as his whore, Morana,” her father’s voice came out, cold. “I had such plans for you.”

  Morana grit her teeth but spoke with a deliberate smirk. “I’m sure you haven’t called to get the details of my scandalous sex life, father. Oh, I forgot to ask, how’s your nose?”

  Silence.

  Score 1.

  “I know you’re out of the building alone,” the man informed her. Ah, the ever-faithful spies. Of course, he had people watching.

  “And?”

  “You’ve been branded a traitor, Morana. This territory will no longer be safe for you. You’ll be hunted and brought to me for justice, if not killed immediately.”

  Morana shook her head. “You care too much about your reputation to do that to me, father. Your name is everything to you. A daughter sleeping with the enemy? Oh, you’d bury the news so deep into the ground it’d never see the light of the day.”

  She paused, taking a deep breath. “Isn’t that why the news about my kidnapping was never known?”

  Morana heard her father’s breaths catch.

  He waited a beat, then ground out, his accent more pronounced. “That fucking vermin! He was a good for nothing brat then and he’s a good for nothing brat now. What did the shit tell you?”

  Interesting.

  Morana blinked up at the sky, seeing the clouds rolling in overhead, the wind picking up pace.

  “What do you think?” Morana bluffed, keeping her voice controlled, seeing what else she could glean. “I know, father.”

  She heard his breaths on the phone, deep breaths, clearly trying to control his agitation.

  “You know everything?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, you’re right,” he spoke finally, his voice so cold it sent a shiver down her spine. “I do care about my reputation. I have worked too hard for too many years to let this get in the way.”

  Morana frowned, trying to piece together everything her father said.

  “You’ve known for a while now, haven’t you?”

  She continued to bluff. “Yes, I have.”

  “You should have died,” her father repeated the words from the other night. “At least I wouldn’t have had to deal with you all these years.”

  Morana stayed quiet, letting him talk.

  “You’ve spurned me, shamed me, and now you know the truth about us. You’ve not only signed your death warrant, Morana. You’ve signed his too.”

  Her mind spun, not just because of the severity of the threats but because of what he’d said.

  ‘Truth about us?’

 
To whom was her father referring?

  “Starting now, you’re dead to me.”

  The line went dead.

  Morana looked at the phone, another hard shiver wracking her body, goosebumps erupting all over her arms.

  She looked around, seeing the secluded area for the first time as not the safe haven it was but the perfect spot to dispose of a dead body. Her senses went tingling with dread.

  Urgency hit her suddenly.

  She needed to get back to the penthouse, to safety. Now.

  Pocketing her phone, she stood up quickly and started walking towards the gate of the graveyard a good distance away, beyond which her car stood waiting for her. Hastening her steps, she kept her senses vigilant, looking around and over her shoulders, seeing nothing but graves and grass and trees at the far edge on this side of the fence in the utter quiet.

  The wrought iron gate came into view, and Morana could see her car a little beyond that.

  Releasing a sigh of relief, she sped up to a jog and exited the graveyard.

  It was perhaps because she was on alert for anything out of place combined with the absolute silence that she heard the little beep she would have otherwise missed as she neared her car.

  The sound came again, like a whip cracking on the ground before meeting flesh, making her heart pound as blood rushed through her body in a tsunami.

  Stopping exactly where she was, Morana dropped to her knees and leaned over to look under her car, her hands scraping in the dirt and her body ready to jump and run if what she suspected was true.

  It was true.

  A small black box was hooked under her car, a red dot of a light blinking on it with every alternate beep. Since there was no timer, it meant that it was controlled remotely. Which meant someone had been watching and waiting for her to come near enough.

  Heart in her throat, adrenaline flushing her system, Morana pushed back and stood, turning and running back towards the graveyard without wasting a breath. Blood pounded in her ears and the muscles in her calf burned. Little pebbles got under the sole of her flats but she continued to run, feeling a stitch on her side, just as the ground beneath her feet started to rumble.