Chapter 11 · The Man Under the Mask

"Stop." Rena dug her heels in. "You need to—"

"Keep moving." Cain's hand stayed locked around her wrist, dragging her through the undergrowth.

"You're bleeding—"

"I said move."

His voice came out flat. Dead. Worse than angry.

The forest pressed in dark and cold, smelling like wet earth and blood. Every step sent a fresh jolt of pain down Rena's shoulder where Cain had dug out the silver. Behind them, voices echoed through the trees. Marcus's hunters. Spreading out. Closing the net.

She stumbled over a root. Cain caught her, his grip tightening, his chest against her back. They stood there breathing too hard. The bond hummed between them, pulling at something deep in her ribs.

It hurt. Everything hurt.

"They're not gonna stop," she said.

"I know."

"Marcus won't—"

"I know." He let go and stepped back. Silver burns crawled up his arms like black ink under the skin. "There's an old ridge a mile north. If we can get there before they cut us off—"

A gunshot cracked through the air.

Rena hit the ground. Her bad shoulder screamed. Cain dropped beside her, his hand going to the back of her neck, pressing her down into the dirt.