Hunted

Naomi

Chapter 6
Five years ago.

I hurry down the stairs, not wanting to be late for class, not even considering breakfast. I pass the kitchen and the dining room without a second thought.

"Naomi."

I freeze, gripping my bag a little tighter before turning to face the table.

"Good morning," I say, stiffly. "I won't be having breakfast today."

He doesn't respond right away, just removes his glasses. My father—handsome, powerful, the man everyone admires. Everyone wants to be him, but no one's ever been able to get close. Not the way Jason has. Father is always in that damn silver suit, crisp white shirt, looking like he owns the world. I barely ever see him, but when I do, it's like he's sizing me up, measuring how much of a disappointment I've become.

He never had to say it. I know he thinks I'm turning into my mother. A disgrace to the Moore name.
Mom gave him everything she had, and still, it all fell apart.

"The food's not going anywhere. You can eat later, it doesn't matter. I have something to discuss, and it's happening now. I won't be back until late," he says, his voice flat.

Of course. Always something else, always somewhere else.

I glance at my watch. "Class starts in an hour."

"Fantastic. Sit."

I take a seat, but my mind's elsewhere. I'm more worried about missing Marcus's practice today if I'm late for school. After what happened two days ago, I can't stop thinking about him. About wanting more.

I swallow hard, avoiding my father's gaze. His presence alone is enough to make me shrink, but I can't let him see that.

"I'm moving to LA," he says, his voice cold, detached. "Expanding the business—it's necessary. Whether you come with me or not, that's your decision. But I need you to move out of this house as soon as I leave."

The words hit like a freight train, and for a second, I can't breathe. My world caves in, crashing down all at once. Move out? Where the hell would I even go? I understand he thinks I'm good for nothing, but how can he easily be ready to throw me out?

"What?" I stammer, "What are you talking about? Why didn't you tell me about this earlier? And now you're kicking me out?"

"I'm giving you a heads up."

My chest tightens, heart pounding. I feel the sting of tears in my eyes, but I blink them back. I won't give him that satisfaction. He doesn't deserve to see how much this guts me.

"You can't do that," I insist, "You can't sell this house. I won't let you."

"Then join me. You can have whatever you want there—the perfect university—you're almost graduating—a life of luxury you deserve. What's stopping you?" He raises an eyebrow, that cold, familiar challenge in his eyes.

I swallow hard. My friends, this town—it's all I have. I can't leave it behind. But I know the truth: if I don't go, he's done with me. My own father, my only family, cutting me off like I'm nothing. I feel the weight of it press down on my chest, suffocating.

"I have to go. I'll be late." The words barely leave my mouth before I bolt, rushing out the door. Tears blur my vision as I sprint across the street, my heart pounding as hard as the ache in my chest.

"I quickly wipe away the tears, making sure not to smudge my makeup. My friends are like detectives—they always know when something's off, and I can't let them see it.

By the time I get to school, I've perfected the act. No one notices a thing.

"Why is everyone so worked up? It's just soccer," Ariella's voice cuts through the air as she and Tina head my way. "Because, one, ew, and two, they have the personality of a brick, and yet every guy plays soccer," she scoffs, rolling her eyes, while Tina laughs beside her.