Page 51 of Hunting Gianna
Gianna laughs, high and brittle. “No one would fight you for me. You’re not worth the calories.”
He flushes, eyes darting to me, then back to her. “So what the fuck do you want?”
She steps closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to run.”
He blinks, confused. “What?”
“Run,” she says. “We’ll give you sixty seconds.”
He laughs, nervous now. “You’re fucking nuts.”
She doesn’t move. Just starts counting, loud and steady.
“One.”
He looks at me, but I don’t react. I just stand there, arms crossed, letting him see the truth in my face.
“Two.”
He backs away, slow at first, then turns and jogs toward the tree line.
“Three.”
He glances back, sees we’re still standing there, and breaks into a sprint.
Gianna stops counting at ten, her lips pulled back in a savage smile.
“You know he’s not going to get far,” I say.
She shrugs, watching the woods. “He doesn’t understand the rules of the game yet.”
We wait, just long enough.
Then we follow, side by side, into the dark.
She’s laughing, wild and free, and I know I’ll follow her anywhere.
Even into hell.
Especially there.
Chapter Fifteen
Gianna
Theforestalmostsighsas we enter the dense trees. Every step feels electric, my feet barely making a sound on the pine needles and rotting leaves. Behind me, Knox is already tuned in. His mask gleams dully when he turns his head, catching fragments of light through the canopy. I should be terrified. I should be sick with what we're about to do. Instead, my blood sings with anticipation, a high, sweet note that drowns out everything else.
So much for being terrified about being murdered.I almost roll my eyes at myself, but the truth is… Knox is making me feel alive in ways I’ve never been before.
Isn’t that every woman’s dream? A man who makes them feel life, passionately, wholly?
Well, I’m done fighting it. I am going to explore these feelings and it starts with ending Bradley.
"There," Knox whispers, pointing to a broken twig dangling by threads of bark. "He went this way."
I nod, following his gaze to where the underbrush is trampled, leaves smeared with mud. I smile, imagining his panicked breathing, the sweat soaking through his designer shirt. I wonder if his perfectly styled hair is ruined yet.
"You're enjoying this," Knox says, his voice amused behind the mask.
