Page 42 of Beautiful Prey

Then the slope gives way.

Lightning hits the slope above us and tears a slab of rock loose. The hillside gives, rock and mud sliding down from where the strike hit. I shove him clear on instinct, and then a dead pine comes down across my shoulder hard enough to steal the sky.

Something tears, right before the visor explodes in white static and darkness crashes through it.

By the time the mountainside settles, I’m on my back beneath half a tree, rain and sand pouring through the shattered seal against my face, every breath sharp enough to make the world pulse at the edges.

Through the cracked visor I find him.

He’s still on his feet, a look of horror on that pretty face.

My mouth opens. “Run.”

The word tears itself apart somewhere between my ribs and my throat.

8

JADE

Ishould leave him.

The Adjudicator lies half-buried beneath the fallen pine, the trunk pinning one shoulder to the ground as rain and gold sand collect on his black coat. The visor that has followed me through the Hunt is split from temple to jaw, its display behind the glass gone dark, muddy water running through the crack. Every breath catches deep in his chest before he forces the next one through.

He shoved me out of the way just before the tree came down.

The checkpoint is still out there. Onyx is still out there. The Hunt is still underway.

I should go.

I take one step away, then another, until his breathing catches behind me.

I stop.

Keep walking.

He’s the reason I’ve spent the Hunt looking over my shoulder. Why those idiots called me his favorite. His princess. Because of him, every instinct I have has screamed at me to stay as far away from this man as possible.

Go.

Yet my fingers tighten around my pack's strap.

“Run.” His voice scrapes through the storm, followed by a rough chuckle that breaks into a cough. He spits blood into the sand. “Before I catch you.”

I almost snort. “You’re not catching anyone.”

Another cough tears through him, but somehow, he laughs again. “You’d be surprised what I can do from down here.”

The wind tears through the pines overhead, hurling another sheet of sand across the clearing. Somewhere higher up the slope, something cracks.

Neither of us looks away.

I should go. Instead, I walk back.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“What does it look like?”

“Making another bad decision.”