7
The memories faded.
I grabbed the jacket, hanging around
backstage.
Hunter was throwing a fit in the green room.
I didn’t know what happened, but he was
pissed.
I peeked through the door.
…I saw Hunter grinding someone’s fingers
く
into the floor with his shoe, his voice cold:
“Worthless.”
I gasped.
Was that Hunter?
The same guy who followed me around,
promising to protect me forever?
The same guy who cried in the corner after
paying for the medical bills?
Maybe this was the real him.
After I got to New York, I read some business
magazines.
<
I learned about Hunter’s real life.
He was eight years older than me, the black-
sheep son of the Huntington dynasty.
He might have been born out of wedlock, but
it didn’t make him any less powerful.
Not even thirty, but already ruthless.
A year ago, he’d driven his older brother crazy to become the sole heir.
It was hard to picture the cruel side of Hunter
from just reading the articles.
But seeing it now-
<
Felt familiar, and like looking at a stranger.
Maybe I should just leave the jacket at the
door and go?
As I was thinking, the door burst open.
“Who’s out here?”
Hunter walked out.
His face was blank, his glasses reflecting the cold light.
I shivered.
It’s okay, I have a mask on.
And makeup.
With my eyeliner on, who would recognize
me?
=
I tried to sound casual. “This is for Wendy-”
Before I could finish, a girl walked past
backstage and called out.
E
“Sierra, you still haven’t gone back to the
dorm yet?”
As she said my name,
Hunter grabbed my wrist.
