Now, we were walking down another dirt path to a less dense part of the savanna. A Bushpig grunted somewhere off to our left, and Dad nudged me with his elbow. Like he paid seventeen-thousand dollars and brought me all the way to South Africa to kill a fucking Bushpig. I’d have laughed in his face if his suggestion wasn’t such an insult.
One of the other men, Malcolm Huntington, started rambling on about taxes and chemical warfare. He was a senator on his way to the White House. I couldn’t care less about his political agenda, but the second he saidhername, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
I whipped my head around and pinned him with a stare. “What did you just say?”
“I was just telling your father how I think it would help my campaign if Tatum married someone like Khalid Falih.”
Tatum.MyTatum. The girl I vowed to protect from the time she was six years old.
I belted a laugh. “Khalid Falih? The oil guy.”From Saudi Arabia, I wanted to add but didn’t because it was redundant. We all knew who he was and why that marriage would be beneficial for Huntington—and a nightmare for us. We also knew how men like him treated women.
He nodded, swallowing hard because he knew too. He knew what that meant for his daughter. He just didn’t care.
We all stopped walking now. My father was shooting daggers at my back. I could feel it. Didn’t stop me, though. Dad hated Huntington as much as I did. They’d been frenemies since the day Huntington got into politics, a mutual dislike as thick as it got. But they needed each other like matches and gasoline. Alone, they were dangerous, but together they were lethal. When your families had spent generations fighting for the same cause, you put on your mask and played the fucking game.
Now this dude was standing here talking about pawning his youngest daughter off to some asshole like she was a piece of property to be traded. An asshole ten years older than her, might I add. I was five seconds away from shoving the barrel of my rifle up Malcolm’s ass.
“Married?” I raked my fingers through my hair and tipped my head back, looking up at the clear blue sky. If there was a God, I wished He’d send a mountain lion to rip this man’s throat out right fucking now. “She’s fourteen fucking years old. Has she even hit puberty yet? For fuck’s sake.” I dropped my head and narrowed my eyes at him.
He palmed the back of his neck. His dark brown eyes closed for a brief second, and I caught the clench in his squared jaw. “I didn’t mean right now, Caspian.” His eyes opened. “Jacobs just got elected, and I’m sure he’ll win re-election another term. It will be at least eight years before I can add my name to that ballot.” He sighed as though I exhausted him. “I was making plans. Thinking out loud.”
Yeah, well, think that shit quietly from now on.
I nodded once but kept my eyes locked on his for a moment longer before I started walking again.
“I think an alliance with the Middle East is precisely what we need,” Carmichael said, more to me than to Huntington.
Of course, he would think that. Women were a commodity. Feelings were liabilities, and marriage was just another business transaction. I didn’t disagree with him completely, except when it came to this, toher.
A movement caught my attention from the corner of my eye. Well, fuck me. There were no mountains here, but there was definitely a fucking lion. I chuckled to myself and tightened my grip on my rifle. Without motioning for anyone else in our group to stop, I stood still and watched the majestic creature one hundred yards away. He was lying under a tree, licking his paws as if he’d just finished a good meal. His golden mane blended in with the long, wispy blades of grass and moved with the breeze.
The smart thing to do would have been to keep moving. The lion wasn’t concerned with us. But thanks to Huntington here, my blood was rushing through my veins, and thanks to Pierce, I had a point to make to my father. I practically heard his words in my head.Lion or antelope?
I wasn’t fucking running. That lion didn’t stand a chance.
The group stopped walking once they saw what had my attention.
Dad leaned in close to my ear. “I know you’re eager, but this is your first time. If you miss—”
“I won’t.” I wouldn’t.
He heaved a breath then stepped away without another word.
I lifted my rifle. The world closed in around my scope. It was just that lion and me. I held my breath as my heart raced. The cool metal of the trigger was like a delicate pulse against my finger, a lifeline under my control. The butt of the gun rested against my shoulder. I lived for this feeling, the power high, and this was the ultimate. I closed one eye, zeroing in on the five-hundred-pound natural-born killer through the scope. Dad was right. One wrong move and that animal wouldn’t hesitate to rip our flesh from our bones.
I had no way to know exactly, but I was pretty sure no one else was breathing at this moment either, not even Wexley, the guide we’d hired to accompany us on the hunt. The world was still, quiet, captivated with the anticipation of who would end up at the top of the food chain.
Three.
Two.
One.
I took aim and squeezed the trigger.
The lion bolted up the second the bullet hit him. His thunderous roar echoed across the open land as he spun around in circles then roared again.
“Fuck,” Pierce yelled. “You missed.”
Only, I didn’t. I hit him exactly where I’d meant to—his front leg. I always made it a point to learn from other people’s mistakes. I knew there was no such thing as a one-shot kill, not out here, not for a beginner like me. And I wasn’t about to let that lion charge at us the way the buffalo did. It would only take a beast like that four seconds to cover the one-hundred-yard distance between us.
I ignored the curses behind me and brought my finger to the trigger again.
The lion stopped spinning and finally spotted us. His mouth opened wide with another roar, exposing razor-sharp teeth and making the air around us vibrate.
I looked back at him and smiled.
Then I took my place at the top of the food chain.