FinalCut by Paige Burns

FBI's Most Wanted vs Serial Killer Hunter – A Deadly Game of Identity, Justice and Forbidden Obsession

Gay Romance Series Book 1

A relentless hunter of the shadows, who executes his own brand of justice, finds his path inextricably intertwined with a dedicated federal agent sworn to uphold the law. Their cat-and-mouse game ignites a dangerous and tangled passion, forcing them to confront the blurred lines between right and wrong. As they collaborate to track down monstrous predators, a forbidden connection blooms amidst the thrill of the chase and the clash of their opposing worlds.

This is a heart-pounding tale of dark obsession, moral conflict, and unexpected redemption.

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Excerpt from FinalCut © Copyright 2026 Paige Burns

CHAPTER 1 CREATURES OF THE NIGHT

Ethon glanced at the radio’s blue-lit display—it was 12:45 a.m.

The interstate stretched endlessly into the dark, high beams carving a path between shadow-soaked wilderness. Now and then, a clump of trees slid by like drifting specters. If not for the white lane lines whipping past the corner of his eye, he could almost believe the car wasn’t moving at all.

The silence was oppressive, unsettling. He twisted the radio knob—nothing but dead air. Who knew how long it had been broken?

He was just about to hum a tune to break the stillness when a figure suddenly materialized in front of the windshield.

Brakes screamed in protest, hurling Ethon forward in his seat. The wheel jerked too sharply, and the centrifugal lurch made his stomach flip, but by some miracle, the car skidded to a halt.

In the wash of the headlights, the cause of the near disaster stood clear—a tall, broad-shouldered man in a hooded long-sleeve T-shirt, its chaotic print looking at first like abstract art, but on second glance, a mass of skeletons missing limbs. Even so, Ethon decided the shirt was tame compared to the fashion crime hanging from his hips—metal-chained jeans in a pairing so grotesque it was almost impressive.

The stranger bounded over in two or three quick steps, bent low to peer through the window, and tapped his knuckles on the glass.

Ethon cautiously rolled the window down a palm’s width, still rattled, and snapped, “Do you have any idea how dangerous that stunt was? If you’re looking to kill yourself, try jumping in front of someone else’s ride—this car’s been through three major overhauls, and one more hit will see it straight to the scrapyard.”

The man bared a gleaming set of teeth from beneath the shadow of his hood. “If I hadn’t been standing in the middle of the road, your Chevy would’ve just blown past me—same as the cars before you.”

That’s because you’re standing on a pitch-dark roadside like a lone chocolate bean dropped into a Coke bottle, Ethon groused inwardly. Still, good manners prevailed, and he asked warmly, “Need some help?”

“Of course! Is there anyone on this planet who needs help more than me? I just got booted out of a car by a bunch of drunken bastards. Their booze-soaked brains thought it was all just a laugh—damn it, they even drove off in my car! Tomorrow I’ll probably be fishing it out of a pond or finding it wedged between two trees! That’s exactly how I lost my last ride! Those motherfu—”

Ethon frowned, wishing his window came with a built-in profanity filter. Clearly, compared to his so-called friends, this guy—already swearing and cursing people’s female relatives—wasn’t much better.

He felt the urge to floor it and leave him behind, but unfortunately, the man picked up on his intention before he could act.

“Hey, hey, buddy, don’t do that! Out here, you’re lucky if two cars pass by in an hour. I don’t wanna hoof it through the wilderness all night… How about a lift? I’ll hop out the moment we hit a gas station or a motel.” The man’s tone turned pleading.

Through the window, Ethon sized up his broad-shouldered frame and the muscles straining under the cotton T-shirt. He hesitated, then finally reached over and unlocked the door.

“Praise Satan!” The man yanked the door open, sprang inside, and landed in the passenger seat, thrusting out his right hand. “Hart.”