Chapter 263: The Dark Prince of Manhattan

David’s POV

My phone dinged right as the silence after Ashley’s exit started to feel suffocating.

I glanced down and saw a message notification from an unknown number. I exhaled and clicked.

‘This is Rachel, Jameson’s daughter.

Your countdown clock just started ticking, Hunt.

Get the mission moving, or I’ll be forced to play my family’s hidden card. You know exactly what that means.

Don’t test me.’

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. Perfect timing.

I shoved the chair back so fast it screeched against the hardwood.

Norman’s voice cut through the haze. “David? Where the hell are you going in such a hurry?” but I didn’t answer. Didn’t even look back.

I caught someone else muttering that I was running off just to avoid paying for dinner, but I didn’t bother taking the bait.

There is something important I need to address. I had to handle Ashley.

Tonight.

Before she turned this whole thing into a seasonal spy-action movie.

The night air hit me like a slap when I shoved through the front doors. Streetlights buzzed overhead, neon signs from the bars down the street and late-night coffee spots painted the sidewalk in reds and blues. The parking lot stretched out dark and quiet except for the occasional car humming past on the main road.

I knew Ashley.

She didn’t just leave when she was this worked up.

She lurked.

She watched.

She would wait for Holly to come out so she could tail her, find out where she lived, maybe slash tires, maybe something worse. She’d done it before…back when we first split, she’d followed one of my “distractions” for three days straight until the girl moved cities.

I scanned the rows of cars, eyes narrowed, heart hammering with that ugly mix of adrenaline and dread.

Nothing.

No flash of red dress. No glint of those stupid stilettos.

Maybe, just maybe, she actually left this time.

Then I saw it…a shadow shifting behind a black pickup truck two rows over. Too deliberate to be a trick of the light.

I exhaled hard through my nose, rubbed my temple like I could push the headache away, and started walking slowly and casually. Not trying to spook her into bolting.

When I rounded the truck bed, she was crouched low, hands already clenched like she was ready to punch or attack the second Holly appeared.

I didn’t give her the chance.

My hand shot out, fisted the back of her dress, and yanked her backward. She yelped…sharp, pained…and stumbled into me.

“Jesus…David. You scared the shit out of me!”

“How low are you planning to go, Ashley?” I asked, voice flat.

She twisted in my grip, eyes wild. “As low as the fucking ground if that’s what it takes to win you back.”

I dragged her closer, lowered my voice. “I’m not even flattered. Not even in the slightest. Quit whatever’s spinning in that head of yours and leave. I’ve been nice. I’ve never once called the cops on you for all the times you’ve harassed me. But this?” I jerked my chin toward the restaurant. “This ends tonight. You don’t come back. Ever.”

She laughed…short, bitter, unhinged like I just told her to grow two horns. “Never. I’m not letting go. I waited for you while you were rotting in prison. I put my entire life on hold. And now you’re telling me to quit because some little office slut batted her lashes?”

“Stop talking like a lunatic, Ashley,” I snapped. “We were done in Manhattan. Done before I even left Manhattan. What the hell are you on about?”

“No.” Her voice cracked. “I have to have you. I’ve come too far to back down now. Stop making this thing difficult and come back to me.”

I stared at her.

And in that second, everything crystallized.

She was going to ruin it.

Just like she joined hands with that crazy lady Chloe and nearly ruined things when I was trying to take Ava down.

In the last, she showed up at the wrong time, spread some malicious information online, nearly blew my cover to the Millers. I’d spent weeks cleaning up the mess. If she did the same thing now…if she touched Holly, if she scared her off, if she forced my hand too early…Rachel Jameson wouldn’t just pull a “hidden card.” She’d burn the whole board.

No.

No more loose ends.

My face twisted into something cold, something I hadn’t let out in a long time.

I stepped in, hand sliding up to grip her throat…not choking, not yet, just firm enough that she felt every ounce of what was coming.

I slammed her back against the truck door. Metal thudded. Her breath punched out in a whimper.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten one of the major reasons we broke up in the first place, Ashley.”

My voice came out low, almost conversational. “Murder isn’t new to me. You know that. And you know what they say…a leopard never changes its spots.”

I leaned in until our faces were inches apart. “What makes you think I won’t kill you right here? Snap your neck, toss your body in the trunk, drive out to the desert, and be back in time for last call?”

Her eyes went huge as she remembered. The crazy bravado cracked as she saw the look in my eyes. Real fear curled in, making her tremble under my hand.

She whimpered…small, broken. Her pulse hammered against my palm like a trapped bird.

I smiled, letting her see the monster she once knew. No warmth. Just teeth.

Yes. My name is David Hunt. And I’m a serial killer.

The fear in her eyes was real now…raw, no more crazy bravado left. Just the slow-dawning realization that she might have pushed me one step too far.

I held her there, pinned against the cold metal of the truck, my fingers firm around her throat. Not squeezing. Just reminding her how easy it would be.

Inside my head, everything clicked into place like a lock finally turning.

Yes.

They thought I was just some ex-con with anger issues. Some washed-up guy who got lucky with starting his company after prison.

They had no idea that i’m the famous Manhattan serial killer.

The one who made headlines for months…front pages, nightly news, true-crime podcasts that still dissect my kills like they’re art.

The serial killer who vanished into thin air right when the noose was tightening. No body. No confession. No trace.

That’s when the Jamesons came into the picture.

They didn’t just offer my family a way out.

They gave my family a new identity, new lives, new names.

They saved my father from the public shame of having a monster for a son…even though the shock of it all broke him anyway. He’s been rotting in that psychiatric hospital ever since, staring at walls, mumbling about how he raised a devil.

The Jamesons keep the papers buried. The old warrants shredded and the trail cold.

In exchange?

I work for them.

Their loyal little lackey.

Their blade in the dark.

Doing the jobs no one else can touch.

So yes.

That’s why I owe them.

That’s why I’m here, playing this dangerous game with Holly, seducing her, breaking her, using her to dismantle everything the Millers built.

Mr Jameson promised to let me go after burying Ava Miller and her company. But that failed. And now, I’m back as their shadow.

Because the Jamesons own me.

Until the debt is paid.

“Ashely,” I said, soft and final. “You’ve known all along that I’m the Dark Prince of Manhattan…right? I know you’ve always had your suspicions, but couldn’t see through your obsession with me. Take this as your last warning and never show your face around me. Ever.”

Her whimper died in her throat as her body went limp against the truck, eyes wide and glassy with terror.

I let go without warning.

She slid down the side of the truck, knees buckling, sliding to the pavement like her strings had been cut.

Because they have been cut.