Chapter 11 · The Hunter's Deal

"Don't move. Not a single fucking inch," Vera hissed, the muzzle of her pulse-rifle digging straight into the soft tissue of my neck.

I stayed frozen. My breath came in ragged, wet rattles, smelling of old blood and the ozone from the rift. I could feel her shaking—not with fear, but with that kind of adrenaline that makes a person unpredictable. She was close. Close enough that I could smell the mint and gunpowder clinging to her gear.

"You're not a normal stitch-beast," she whispered, her voice tight. "You've got eyes. Real eyes. You're looking at me like you actually understand what I'm saying."

I tried to speak, but it came out as a guttural click. My throat was still half-scarred from the last evolution. I shifted my weight, and the rifle barrel pressed harder, drawing a thin line of blood.

"I said don't move!" she snapped. "One twitch and I'll paint this wall with your brains. Now, tell me—who put you in the Pit? Was it Vane? Did he graft a human core into you?"

I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell her that I was Jace Cole, a dead man walking in a monster's skin.