Page 62 of Red

Tripp joins me again. “Yup, thermal imaging. They’re so hot, we can see them from an even further distance. We only have the night scopes like this, so it limits some things, but at the same time, it’s an advantage to hide ourselves from them at a safe range instead of venturing closer to the beasts.”

“Wow,” I say, slinging the gun’s strap over my back.

Tripp shows me how the dials on the scope work to adjust when needed, then we grab bottles of water before heading out to release two young men from their post a short walk away from the edge of camp. He updates Tripp on no sightings, and we take his place, crouching into the snow, our guns up on rests in front of us.

It’s quiet for the first hour, and the thumping in my ears calms. If we see nothing, then we can go back to camp after we’re relieved by whoever comes next. Then . . . Well, then, I don’t know. I have enough information to go home now, but what is home? Pratt’s goofy cheerfulness is nowhere. Jocko has helped, he thinks of me as a human though. Lirea and I are getting along, except we have never talked as deeply as Gretch and me. And Stark, well . . .

Tripp pokes my shoulder, and I look back through the scope. A bright yellow glow comes from over to the right. It’s massive, high behind the trees’ dense branches. I readjust the coloring on my scope, and it rises up to full height stepping around the tree. My heart screams in pain when it starts to beat again.

Fuck.

I scan the trees to where the thermal coloring stops. It has to be him. No one else is that tall.

Tripp’s lips form heat around my ear. “It’s your shot.”

I shake my head in response.

This can’t be happening.

“You can do it,” Tripp says, his words lethal and encouraging.

I swallow and lower back into position so I can see. Anyone else, I could’ve grazed, risked missing. The memory of tingles from Stark’s hand on my back floods my skin. He killed his own kind for me so I could be safe. There’s only one option.

I readjust my grip, and Tripp’s breath blows past my head.

“You got this. This is the one we’ve been trying to get. He never comes close enough. Go for the kill.”

All the mixed-up feelings for Tripp vanish and hatred fills me. I want to turn the gun and shoot him in the heart. He’s the evil one here. I wish I could turn and rip his head off to prove that we can be beasts if they want us to be. The Toridge pack—my pack—is trying to protect the home that I love. The ones like the true me.

I turn the dials on the scope again. Sucking in a breath, I slide my finger over the trigger. Magic starts to flood under my skin, but I don’t care. Let them find grass here tomorrow. I will be gone.

Don’t move, I say in Stark’s mind.

Who? Stark’s head twists in our direction three hundred yards away.

This isn’t a joke. Stay still. I aim the gun low, right between a gap in his tree-like legs.

“Now, Aly.”

My finger pulls. The shot rings out, overbearing in my ears.

I drop the gun and cup them to drown the ringing.

Run! I scream inside, then close the connection.

Tripp goes for his gun, and I close my eyes, gripping my ears while waiting for another shot from him.

“Damn, that one’s fast. Don’t worry, Aly. We’ll get it. I should’ve brought you headphones, I don’t like wearing them out here . . . you miss things.”

My name is Aloka. Not Aly.

“Yeah.” I stand and walk away. Each step is filled with pain, like walking across hot ashes.

I wander at the edge of the camp in slushy snow when Tripp comes out of the forest.

“Aly? Don’t worry. The first encounter is always the worst one.” I nod, and tears flow from my eyes. I don’t stop them and keep cool the best I can.

“Come on I’ll get someone to cover our shift, let’s go get some rest.” He takes my hand and starts to walk. “You’re burning up. It’s the adrenaline.”