Chapter 6 · Death is the Best Teacher

"Stay down, you freak!"

The boot slammed into my ribs, pinning me against the damp concrete of the Pit. I didn't scream. I couldn't. My lungs felt like they were full of broken glass, and every breath was a gamble. Above me, the Hunter—some mid-tier mercenary with a jagged scar running from his eye to his jaw—sneered. He didn't even see me as a threat. Just a piece of failed livestock that had somehow learned to bite.

"What's the matter?" he spat, grinding his heel into my chest. "Too much evolution for your little brain to handle?"

I stared up at him, my vision swimming in red. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but not from fear. It was the hunger. That goddamn, bottomless void in my gut that screamed for more. I could smell him—the salt of his sweat, the metallic tang of the blood on his blade, and the faint, sour scent of fear he was trying to hide behind that arrogant grin.

"I can still smell your fear, you bastard," I croaked, the words sounding like gravel rubbing together.

He laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "Fear? I'm shaking in my boots.