Page 17 of Beautiful Prey

Her gun hand trembles, and for one stupid second I see Onyx trying to hide how weak he’s become. I know I should walk away, but I can’t leave her like this, so I crouch slowly, keeping both hands where she can see them. “I’m looking at your ankle. That’s all.”

“Try anything else, and I shoot you.”

“Understood.” I look at the swelling around her ankle. “You slid down that slope?”

“Half of it came with me.” She shifts, grimacing. “Before you ask, no, I don’t need a fucking medic.”

“Good, because I’m not one. But I know what a sprain looks like, and you’re not walking far on that.”

She lets out a short laugh. “What are you going to do, carry me?”

“I was going to ask what your plan was.”

“As if I’d fucking tell you.” Her gun stays trained on me. “Didn’t you hear them back there? They’re already killing each other. Those animals didn’t even make it to dark.”

“I heard.” Neither of us says anything for a moment before I open my pack, take out the bandage roll Onyx laughed at me for packing, and toss it toward her. She catches it one-handed without lowering the gun.

“What do you want for it?”

“Nothing.”

She snorts. “Nothing’s free.”

“Then owe me nothing and wrap your ankle.”

She studies me for another second before lowering the gun enough to work, then winding the bandage tight around the joint.

“What’s your name?” I ask.

Her eyes come back to mine. “Maren.”

“Onyx.”

The lie comes easier this time.

She finishes the wrap and pulls her boot back on with a wince. “If it comes down to you or me, Onyx, I’m choosing me.”

“I’d expect you to.”

“Good. Then no one has to feel guilty later.”

The forest lights up.

For one strange second, it’s as if someone outside the glass has flipped a switch. White light punches upward between the trees, bright enough to turn every trunk around us silver, and the same warm voice from intake rolls across the forest.

Checkpoint One is now active. Capacity is twelve. Participation is optional. Candidates who secure a place will receive food, water, and guarded shelter until dawn. The Hunt wishes you speed.

Twelve.

And there have to be more than four hundred of us left.

Twelve places.

The forest explodes around us.

Branches crack. Someone screams for the others to move. Feet hammer through the trees from every direction, people shouting, slipping, and crashing through the undergrowth as they race toward the light. Nearby, a man yells for someone to get the fuck out of his way.

Maren and I look at each other, then she grabs her pack.