Hunted

Naomi

Chapter 20
Five years ago.

Marcus is confusing.

I shift in the seat, my stomach tightening as I steal a glance at Marcus, his eyes straight ahead, locked on the road. The guy in the back keeps squirming, his wrists bound in duct tape, muffled sounds of struggle filling the silence. Vaughn's hand rests casually on the steering wheel, the other hanging out the window with a cigarette lazily burning between his fingers.

Beside me, Kaya is stiff, gripping my arm tight like she's holding on for dear life. I don't know why I got in the car. The second Marcus looked at me, something just clicked, and before I knew it, I was sitting here, trapped in this tense silence. It's stupid. But we're okay now, aren't we?

I think Marcus and his father are manipulating me, Mom's words eco in my mind, and I think Anderson wants to take over your father's business. And Marcus is helping him.

Kaya suddenly speaks up, her voice tense, almost shaking, "Who is he? Where are we going? What are you going to do to him?"

Neither Vaughn nor Marcus say a word. The silence hangs heavy between us, and I feel Kaya's grip tighten even more, her nails digging into my skin.

"I asked you a question," she snaps.

Marcus glances at her, just a quick look. "Three questions, actually."

Vaughn barely acknowledges her, his voice cold and dismissive. "Would've been smarter to ask before you got in."

Will you at least tell me what we're going to do?" I ask, my voice low but steady, eyes locked on Marcus.

He meets my gaze in the rearview mirror, those blue eyes of his slicing through me. They're so cold, so indifferent, but I can't help it—I'm drawn to them. I've always been. Ever since we were kids, those eyes had a way of pulling me in, no matter how distant he seemed.

He doesn't answer right away, just holds my stare for a moment longer before shifting his focus back to the road. I swallow, feeling the tension crackle between us like a live wire. There's something about the way he looks at me, like he knows exactly how much I'm hanging on his every word—or lack of them.

"Don't worry about it," he finally says, his tone dismissive, almost bored.

That's it? He was so warm just hours before. What the hell?

The car jerks to a stop, and I glance out the window. Winstone Cemetery looms ahead, dark and eerie beneath the dim streetlights. A chill crawls up my spine.

"What are we doing here?" Kaya's voice wavers, her eyes wide with unease.

"Get out," Vaughn's voice snaps, sharp and commanding, before he and Marcus swing their doors open without a second thought. They're already halfway out by the time Kaya and I stumble to follow, the heavy weight of tension thickening the air.

As soon as I step out, I see them yanking the guy from the back, dragging him out like a rag doll. Vaughn's face twists in that manic way I've seen before—a mix of fury and something unhinged, like he's seconds from snapping.

"I hate being mad," Vaughn growls, his fingers gripping the guy's shirt as they pull him toward the cemetery gates. "Every single one of you. Useless. You fuck up everything."

He tosses the guy like trash onto the dirt, standing over him with a crazed gleam in his eyes, breathing heavy, erratic.

"Stop it!" Kaya yells, her voice high and panicked, but I grab her hand, shaking my head. She doesn't get it. She doesn't understand.