Page 109 of Hunted

Three members of the Twelve are already on site, positioned at entry points and shadow-lines, keeping mortals away with the subtle coercion that makes people suddenly remember urgent appointments elsewhere.

I step forward before anyone can stop me and crouch near the ward-scorched marks on the ground. The residue is messy now, disturbed by time and feet, but the pattern remains if you know how to look.

Containment geometry nested inside bait geometry. A double-layer trap designed to trigger after arrival, so Tezra would step into it already committed to the endpoint.

‘Fucking bastards,’ I mutter.

Valentin says nothing.

I glance up.

He’s gone utterly still. Not his usual controlled predator stillness. This is a brief arrest in motion, his head tilted almost imperceptibly, nostrils flaring, silver eyes narrowing on a patch of brick and shadow as if the alley has whispered a name only he can hear.

It lasts less than a second but it’s long enough. I know some of his tells now.

‘What is it?’ I ask, rising slowly.

His mask slides back into place. ‘Nothing you need concern yourself with at this moment.’

‘Try again.’

‘Eira.’

‘Don’t Eira me.’ I step closer, ignoring the way the Twelve tracks the movement. ‘You smelled something. Or saw something.’

His jaw tightens.

‘You owe me answers.’

His gaze drops to my mouth and lingers, and because apparently my body is a traitor to the end, heat flickers through me despite the alley, death and grief.

‘I made you come twice, little hunter,’ he says quietly, a dangerous thread of humour slipping through the gravity. ‘As sublime as the feast was, in theory, I should be the one making demands.’

The nerve of him almost knocks the sadness out of me.

I fold my arms, because if I don’t, I might hit him or kiss him, and I’m not sure which would be worse.

‘I read the small print this time, Don Moretti. I gave you exactly what you wanted. Stop acting like a hostile lawyer and start talking.’

For one blasphemous instant, despite the body count and blood-rot in the air, his mouth almost curves. Then he sobers, and whatever he found settles back over him like a dark fog. ‘We will discuss it at the Tower.’

I open my mouth to argue, but the look he gives me stops me for exactly one reason. The unmistakable promise that the answer is real and he intends to give it.

Just not here.

Valentin turns to Aaron. ‘Take us back.’

Aaron steps in, hand to Valentin’s shoulder, and the dark alley collapses into that hard, cutting fold of space.

The last thing I see before the city blinks away is the scorched geometry where Tezra died.

And the knowledge settling colder in my chest.

Whatever game this is, it just turned ancient.

And ten times more deadly.

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