The Apartment.
Hunter watched Stella with amusement. Her face was an open book, cycling through anxiety, fear, and curiosity. She wanted to ask, but the words were choking her.
He decided to mercy kill the silence.
"You want to know if I killed Charlie and his crew, don't you?"
Hunter swirled his wine, watching the blood drain from Stella's face. She flinched as if he'd slapped her, her eyes darting away, unable to meet his gaze.
He smiled, a cold, predatory curve of the lips.
Hunter had been thinking about his future. He was a transmigrator with a System. A mediocre life of 9-to-5 drudgery or small-time business was beneath him. He didn't want to build "a better America." He wanted chaos. He wanted the adrenaline rush he felt when he dismantled Steve's empire, or when he framed Stansfield.
And he wanted more than one woman.
He wasn't planning on marriage. Why settle for one wife when he could support a roster of beautiful, talented lovers? He would give them everything—money, safety, pleasure—in exchange for loyalty.
Stella Bridger—beautiful, skilled, the world's best safecracker—was a Tier 1 asset. He wasn't going to let her go because of a little thing like morality.
It was time for a "managed truth."
Hunter reached out, his arm hooking around her waist. He pulled her effortlessly against his chest. Stella stiffened but didn't resist.
"I did it," Hunter whispered, his voice calm. "You don't need to know the how. But you deserve to know the why."
He set his wine glass on the coffee table. With his free hand, he flicked his wrist. Three crumpled pieces of paper materialized from his Inventory.
He held them up in front of Stella's face.
"This is why they had to die."
Stella hesitated, then reached out with trembling fingers to take the notes.
Hunter began his explanation—a masterful blend of truth and lies.
"The first note appeared in my Mustang the night I moved in here," Hunter said. "Someone was watching us. I didn't know who."
Stella read the first note: Stay away from her.
"The next day, the second note appeared," Hunter continued. "It mentioned the gold. That's when I suspected Charlie. I stole the gold from Steve, laundered it, and put it in a secure bank. If they robbed the bank, fine. But they came after me."
Stella read the second note: If you took our gold, you're dead.
"On the third day, I changed my mind about letting them slide."
Hunter's voice hardened.
"Yesterday morning, they escalated. They didn't just leave a note. They rigged a bomb in my car."
Stella gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
"It was a dummy—a warning," Hunter lied smoothly. "But the message was clear. My life was threatened. And more importantly..."
He tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her flush against him.
"I was worried about you. What if you were in the car when a real bomb went off? What if they grabbed you again to get to me?"
"So I realized," Hunter whispered into her ear, "it was time to strike back."
He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent.
"You are mine, Stella. I will not let anyone threaten what is mine. Ever."
The CEO archetype worked wonders. Even in America, a strong, independent woman could melt under the sheer, unadulterated force of possessive protection.
Stella felt her resistance crumble.
She thought back to everything. How he saved her from Steve. How he learned her trade at the farm. How he avenged her father when she was too weak to do it herself. And now, he had killed again—not for greed, but to protect her from a car bomb.
The fear vanished. The doubt evaporated.
In its place was a surging tide of gratitude and devotion.
"Thank you," she whispered, tears pricking her eyes. "Thank you for not lying to me."
She turned in his arms, wrapping her hands around his neck, and kissed him with a fierce, desperate passion.
She had found her partner. The one man strong enough to handle her world.
Hunter responded to the kiss, his smile hidden against her lips. It was the smile of a man who had won the game.
"Why thank me?" Hunter pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes with mock severity. " unless... you were doubting me? Were you keeping secrets, Stella?"
He stood up, scooping her into his arms bridal style. Stella let out a small yelp of surprise.
"I think you need to be punished for that lack of faith," Hunter growled playfully, carrying her toward the hallway.
"Wait!" Stella laughed, breathless. "Let me shower first!"
"Good idea," Hunter smirked. "The punishment starts in the shower."
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