Page 17 of Hunted

‘He is a monster,’ she says flatly. ‘And worse. He is a monster who believes he deserves more than his fair share of power and destiny. And for whatever reason, he’s decided you’re one of the tools to achieving that end.’

For the first time in years, pure fear snakes through me.

I shake it away and lift the cup.

Then pause.

‘Wait, when you say for a short time, how short are we talking?’

Selphine huffs. ‘Long enough for you to get into trouble if you forget yourself, short enough that you don’t start believing you’ve beaten fate.’ She leans in then, voice dropping, vicious and precise. ‘And short enough that if you spill even a whisper of blood in his presence, I won’t be able to save you from what happens next.’

That tells me fuck all, but okay.

I bring the cup closer. The liquid smells wrong.

Old.

Necessary.

‘To staying hidden,’ I murmur, and drink. ‘And to fucking up vampires who dare too close.’

The potion burns all the way down, sinking into me like it’s rewriting something fundamental. I grit my teeth and force myself to breathe until the sensation tightens, then settles. Until I can no longer feel the hum under my skin where my scent used to live.

Selphine watches closely, then nods once. ‘It’s holding.’

‘Good,’ I say, voice rough. ‘Because I don’t intend to lose everything now.’

She sniffs. ‘Brave words for someone about to walk into the devil’s den. Now pay me and be gone, girl.’

Three Days Later

I stand on the sidewalk in New York, craning my neck to look up at the black glass cutting the sky in half.

Umbra Tower. The heart of Valentin Moretti’s power.

Six years ago, I ran from a vampire who claimed me for a debt I knew would cost more than my soul.

Tonight, I walk back to him as someone else entirely.

Because of Valentin Moretti’s claim, I left my family and identity behind. Changed my name, my body, and the shape of my soul to elude him.

Forgot I was ever Lyra Hannigan.

Today I test whether hiding from fate is ever truly possible.

4

VALENTIN

The city behaves when I’m watching it.

And so it should.

New York City.

I have moulded it from birth into the greatest city in the world. Like a wilful child, it tests boundaries every now and then, but that’s part of its charm. The trick is knowing when to administer a stern hand and bring it back to heel.

Late afternoon spreads beneath the black glass of the tower, ordered and profitable and obedient in ways people rarely are.