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Everything is silent except for the rustling of the breeze in the leaves overhead. If Luca is already in pursuit, he’s keeping quiet this time. No cackled taunts. He must mean business.
I’m about to launch into a run when I spot a slim figure emerging from the green archway of the topiary. I plaster myself back against a tree, heart quickening. Has he seen me? What does it matter? His tracker will tell him where I am. Do I run back into the trees or take my shot at the house?
Fuck it. Better end this fast than drag it out.
I run in the direction of the house.
And then there’s a familiar whistling sound and a thunk.
I turn, mouth fallen open, to look at the tree next to mine. An arrow is buried there. Long black line, blood-red fletching.Oh, fuck. I blink at it, and I remember the arrow sticking out of Simon’s chest, his body a carcass on the cold pavement floor. Sweat drips down my cheeks like tears.
There’s another whistling sound. Change of plan. I turn and bolt into the trees.
Luca catches up withme just as I’m climbing up the gnarled, thick limbs of an old tree. That’s after getting caught in not one, not two, but three ditches. High ground seems to be the safest option, and I can slash at him if he tries to climb after me.
I scramble up, breath hitching as he draws closer, almost losing my footing on a thick knot in the trunk. Luca’s bow is slung across his chest, a quiver of arrows at his hip. He’s all in white, like he wants me to know he doesn’t care about camouflaging his approach. Cocky fucker. His features are pale and carved, more skull than face. His mouth set in a grim line.
“Come down,” he says when our eyes meet.
He doesn’t even bother raising his voice.
“Make me.”
The words have barely dropped from my lips before Luca leaps up the side of the tree with frightening swiftness. I don’t even have time to wedge my upper body against the branch I’m trying to haul myself on. Luca catches my leg in one hand, right above my boot, and yanks hard.
I crash from the tree with the graceless brutality of a sack of rocks. I hit the ground, and the breath is knocked out of me. I remember, in a vivid flash, the time Luca set his dog on me, the way it yanked me off the chain-link fence like pulling a chunk of meat off a kebab spike.
Luca jumps back to the ground with the grace of a lynx and pounces. I roll on the ground, moss and grass and twigs flying as I reach for the knife in my boot. Luca slaps my hand away, pulls me to him by my knees. I kick into his shoulder, throwing him back, earning just enough time for my fingers to find the hilt of the knife.
“Finally,” Luca bites out, throwing his body on top of mine with his fingers dug into my shoulders.
“No.”
I push the tip of the knife hard into his gut, not enough to pierce but enough to force him to back off. His eyes drop to the knife, rise back to mine, calculating, assessing.Will I actually stab him, he’s wondering. Could I kill him, if I needed to?
He smirks as if he knows that I know exactly what he’s thinking. He answers the question aloud. “You’d never get that gala invitation.”
I slash at him just as he reaches for me once more. The blade, the exact same shade as Luca’s eyes, catches his arm. There’s not even that much force behind the blow, and he’s fully covered up, but his sleeve goes from white to red in the blink of an eye.
He scrambles back, ashen with shock. I roll around, shove up, and scramble into a run.
I reach the edge of the treeline without falling into any more traps. I take a deep breath and bolt from the trees. If I bypass the topiary, it’s a clean stretch of perfectly mowed lawn between me and the house. Time to run.
“Stop.”
Luca’s voice is a clear command. His voice is raised, but he doesn’t shout. I turn my head, slowing but not stopping, hair flying across my face. Luca’s bow is raised, an arrow poised and ready, the tip a dull glint pointed straight at me.
I stumble to a stop, turn.
“Not that shit again.”
“You know what it’s capable of,” he says.
Terry deserved the arrows that killed them, and Luca wanted to kill them. I saw it in his eyes then. But Luca doesn’t want to kill me. Luca wants to catch me and fight me and fuck me and introduce me to his fucking mother.
“I dare you!” I yell, and then I turn and run.
There’s a whistle and a sudden cold sensation across my cheek. The impersonal kiss of metal. I stop, turn, raise my hand to my cheek. My eyes drop to my fingers. Bright red smears my fingertips like the juice of crushed cherries.
