Kit staredat the gun in his hand, the way her temple pressed against the muzzle. His index finger hovered over the trigger. One move—that’s all it would take to see her brains splattered on the snow.
Maybe then, if he picked her apart, held her organs in his hands outside her body, he’d finally understand why he felt this way about her—when he should feel nothing at all. His finger twitched on the trigger but…
He didn’t want their hunt to end so quickly.
Because Kit feared what came after. In the quiet, once she was dead and he had nothing left to make himfeel—what would become of the Phoenix?
"I do not feel anything for you now." But Kit wanted to. He leaned forward, shifting the gun until the muzzle brushed her hair away from her frost-pinkened cheeks.
Watched her hair slip over the black steel of the gun. Wondered what her skin would feel like beneath his bare palm.
The snow between them fell heavier. It muted the footsteps of the watcher nearby. Kit leaned down and kissed Vesperin’s cheek. It was not tender, but a ghost of a memory.
Her flesh was cold. He wondered what she felt like when she was warm.
He straightened, a strange hunger inside him as her breath hitched.
Kit kept the gun loosely trained on her, grazing the place on her cheek his lips had just touched. "Come out."
Vesperin’s eyes were trained on something behind him, and Kit didn’t look, not until the being moved to the side, coming into his line of sight.
A man, cloaked in white, with blue eyes shining beneath a drawn hood.
"Let her go," the man spoke, voice soft, yet deadly.
Kit stared deeply into Vesperin’s eyes as she knelt before him. The orders were there; he ignored them. "Who are you?"
It was Vesperin who answered:
"He’s my Soulbond."
Something inside Kit clenched in… anger, jealousy, loathing, confusion. It was muted by the memory of electricity, needles in his brain, severing neural pathways, rewiring synapses, until he was nothing but numb.
"I have more than you. Did you know that?" she went on.
"Lucien is yours," Kit said on a ragged exhale.
Vesperin nodded, fingers curling around his wrist. He didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel anything.
"Yes, he’s mine. I have others, though."
Her eyes shifted to the man standing, watching.
Kit had a primal need to look, to know. So he did. He saw the man’s eyes in truth—and the tiny Star on his face.
A Soul Searcher, whose steadfast gaze was on Vesperin and the gun Kit held to her head.
"Four," she said softly. "Lucien. Cyrus. Rhyden. Auren." The way she said the last name, staring at the cloaked man, Kit knew that was his name.
Rage darkened his vision. He shoved the muzzle of the gun against the side of her cheek, watching as it made her lips part. The metal clicked against her teeth.
"Five," Kit growled.
Her brows furrowed in distress as she gave a tiny sob. "Project Phoenix—what have they done to you?"
"All I am is a hunter. I feel nothing but the need to hunt. I am nothing without the urge carved into my DNA. I want tofeel." Kit holstered the gun. His lips did something strange—they twitched, like a muscle receiving the wrong command. He let the motion play out. It formed a smile.
Kit stared at Vesperin. Eight letters. Three vowels. Five consonants. The fingers on his left hand began to trace the shape of the letters in the air.
