Hunter Burn Novels & Stories

In a blast of bright orange fire. "Hugh!" Elizabeth’s scream echoed through the chamber, then Dave shot another round at the remaining assassin. Hugh screamed and struggled to roll out of the flames to safety as his entire body became engulfed. Finally, after a moment, he was able to worm his way onto a part of the stone surface where the fire hadn’t reached, and he continued to turn over in the dust. A few seconds later, the flames had been smothered. The skin on his face and hands peeled and blistered from the burns, and his hair had been singed down to the scalp. When he opened his eyes, he saw Shawn Richmond standing over him, holding his gun. “Now, it's quite a fire, huh?” Shawn lifted

"There's no around. It's open ground on both sides." I thought about it. Thought about Finn's voice telling me to stay calm, stay smart, that panic never solved anything. Thought about the trainer in Sydney and six months of sessions that had apparently been preparing me for exactly this moment. "What's in your bag?" I asked. Dara raised an eyebrow but reached into the small pack at her hip without arguing. She pulled out a phone — not mine, a burner — and handed it to me along with a small canister I recognised immediately.

[Hunter] My world is on fire, again. Grant Manor is aflame, the alley behind the house scorched. Burned bodies are barely more than soot lying like victims of an apocalypse as nearby buildings smolder. My home is gone. And somewhere inside that mess are Livy and Vanessa. “Breathe,” I remind myself, focusing on my meditation, closing my eyes briefly as I count to ten slowly in my mind. “Breathe.”

His gray eyes locked onto mine. I swallowed hard, my hands trembling. “I don’t want to die here… not like this.” My voice cracked at the end, and I hated how weak I sounded, but I couldn’t help it. His jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving mine. “I won’t let him hurt you,” he said, his voice low but steady. --- Hours crawled by in oppressive silence. Then, the basement door creaked open. My heart plummeted into my stomach. Orin descended the stairs, each step slow, the sound echoing in the stale air. He was holding a crossbow—and a shotgun.

“Touch her again and I’ll make sure your corpse is so disfigured your mother won't recognize you.” Detective Burner coughs as he tries to stand, only to freeze when his boot slams down on his chest. “I've taken men apart for less than laying a hand on my girl.” He hisses, lowering his face so close their foreheads almost touch “You're lucky I don’t consider you worth the blood on my suit.” He rises, brushing nonexistent dust from his sleeve, and walks to me without another glance at the man still wheezing beneath him. “You okay?” he asks, his voice gentler now.

And the things I was willing to do to make that happen? They might ruin us both—and I’d burn happily for it.

He stated arrogantly, "You'd better not come begging me on your knees later on, Cynthia!" I let out a sneer before saying, "You should wait until tonight, when you've actually managed to lift the curse, before you discuss what happens next, Oliver." Oliver, being Don Bryant's son, was the target of numerous assassination plots even before his birth, prompting the family to conceal his true birth date. He was actually born on the same day as William, just at a different time. Thus, that particular night served as both William's 23rd birthday and Oliver's last chance for salvation.

Pain shot through my body as I landed on a sharp rock, and I felt warm liquid begin to seep from my forehead, my arms, my back, and my knees. In the direction of the car, I heard the faint crackling of fire and, turning my head, saw the car smoking. Trying to fight the pain that coursed through my whole body, I muttered an 'I will live mantra,' as I forced myself to crawl far from the smoking car, my limbs shaking like they were going to fall out through my skin with every inch. As I dragged myself through the nearby trees,I could only think of one thing, that very mantra, and... Dashiell.

I had to because I knew Genovese would finally find a reason to give me what I had wanted all this time, I did get it, but just to die before I could fully enjoy it. Genovese was seething, that much was obvious as soon as I walked in, but the man that stood beside him made what little hair I possessed stand to attention. Burn Payne. The cruelest hitman I'd ever come across, and just like his name, he lived to burn and to cause pain. He was a sadist, with an empire of his own. He'd once killed a man publicly for having the guts to look him in the eyes, he'd gutted the man like a pig.