Page 88 of Hunted

“But it’s not⁠—”

Before I could even consider the consequences, I barged into the tiny area, snatched it from her grip, and threw it on the floor. Shards of plastic exploded outwards in a spray of white, and the whirring of the machine died in splutters.

“It is now,” I growled, exiting and drawing the curtain—mostly—shut.

Marie stammered something about expenses and manners, but I ignored her, focusing instead on Adelaide’s stunned but affected expression.

I could not stand idly by while Blackwing removed every trace of who Adelaide Sinclair was before they set her loose. She would still have to become someone entirely other in order to do the job selected for her, but I couldn’t let them take the pieces of her that still remained.

The Academy had taken enough from her already. And it would still take more yet—things I couldn’t stop, wheels already in motion. But this? This I could prevent.

Marie finished the appointment in silence—tight-lipped and seething. She wrenched the wax strips off Addie’s body more aggressively than her vocation required, only cutting it out when I quite literally growled at her—like a goddamn fucking animal.

I might have just lost Marie her job. But if the alternative was Addie losing out, then I’d do it again without hesitation.

This place had taken more than enough from us both, and I was about done pandering to it.

[ 30 ]

ADDIE

OMAR RAAFAT – FALLING

“So Marie’s a certifiable bitch, huh?” I whispered as soon as Beck closed the door on her.

I was rewarded with a twitch of his lips, catapulting my ego into the heavens.

I was affecting Hunter Beckett. I couldn’t wait to see what else I was capable of. Maybe these stylists were onto something, after all.

“Yes,” he admitted with just a hint of mischief. “But I might have just cost her her job.”

I couldn’t find it within myself to feel sympathy for the snide cow who’d just ripped hairs off every inch of my body, excluding the freshly styled blonde locks on my scalp. I hated her, particularly for that sly smirk she’d hidden from Beck’s view when she tore them away from my honey pot.

Thank you, Mr James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser—the man that you are—for that particular synonym.

When I told Beck about my profound lack of sympathy and the reason why, I had to snatch his arm to prevent him from going back there. As it was, every movement had me hissing in pain, and I firmly believed it was for that reason alone he relented.

Waddling like a fucking penguin farther down the hall, he guided me, this time, to a door on the left. The doors on this side were black with golden doorknobs, while those on the right were all white. It felt like stepping onto a chessboard—and honestly? That was probably more accurate than I’d like.

I was playing checkers while everyone around me had been playing chess the whole time.

“Prepare yourself,” Beck warned, a heartbeat before choosing the prize behind door number three.

The prize ended up being one of the greatest gifts of my life.

Pyotr, as it turned out, was a gay Russian beauty mastermind whose number one goal in life was to uncover everyone’s secrets—and boy did he have some dirt on Marie.

“...so she slipped him beneath the waxing bed for the entiiiire duration of her next appointment, spending extra time by her client’s calves and getting awfully flustered by them, if you know what I mean,” he mock-whispered in one of the strangest accents I’d ever heard.

“You’re kidding,” I gasped, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. “So he just—what—hid beneath the table and helped himself to the underside of her skirts?”

“Mmhmmm,” Pyotr hummed with a self-satisfied smirk. “And with that nasty little confession that’s been positively eating away at me to keep contained⁠—”

“Oh, please, as if you haven’t told anyone else.” I grinned up at the six-foot stringbean with baby pink hair and fierce royal-blue winged eyeliner.

Beckett snorted.

“Okay, fine.” Pyotr raised his hands in mock surrender. “I told Gina. And Greta. And everyone else who sat in this very chair that week.” He winked. “But you, my darling angel, are done. Are you ready to see my masterpiece?”