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Cain's knife stops an inch from my throat.
His eyes lock on mine. The blade doesn't move.
"Run," he says. Low. Almost a growl.
I don't.
Behind us, boots scrape concrete. The other hunters are close now. Maybe thirty seconds out.
"I said run." His hand's shaking. Just barely. "You want to survive this time, don't you?"
"Not by running."
His jaw clenches. "You don't get it. The contract—"
"I get it." I step closer. The blade touches skin now. Cold edge, warm blood. Just a pinprick. "You kill me or they expel you. That's the deal, right?"
He flinches.
"So do it," I say. "Or admit you can't."
The boots get louder. Voices now. Someone shouts coordinates into a comm.
Cain's breathing hard. "Last time I didn't want to either."
"Liar."
"I'm not—"
"You pulled the trigger, Cain. You looked me in the face and you pulled it." My voice stays flat. I learned that trick in my last life. Right before the end. "So what's different now?"
He opens his mouth. Closes it.
Then the hunters round the corner.
Five of them. All Core Zone. I recognize two from the cafeteria—the ones who wouldn't stop staring at my face like it was something they could peel off and keep.
The tall one in front grins. "Locke. You gonna share or what?"
Cain doesn't turn. Doesn't lower the knife.
"Contract says you gotta kill her yourself," another one says. "Doesn't say we can't watch."
I watch Cain's face. He's doing math. Five of them, one of him, one of me. The knife at my throat makes me his hostage or his kill. Their move depends on his.
"Back off," Cain says.
The tall one laughs. "That's cute. You think you own her because you got the contract? Nah, man. Academy says she's fair game. You just get bonus points."
"And if he fails," the girl on the left adds, "she's worth double to the rest of us."
I feel Cain's pulse through the blade. Fast. Too fast.
He's going to break.
So I move first.
I grab his wrist and twist. Not away—into. The knife cuts shallow across my collarbone as I duck under his arm and spin him between me and the others.
It happens in two seconds. By the time the hunters process it, Cain's back is to them and I've got his knife hand locked at an angle.
"Shoot her!" the tall one yells.
But Cain's in the way.
"Move, Locke!"
He doesn't.
I lean in close. My mouth next to his ear. "You owe me a life, remember? So here's the trade. You help me kill them, I'll give you a clean shot at me after. No tricks."
"That's insane," he breathes.
"You got a better idea?"
Someone fires. The shot goes wide—they're scared of hitting Cain. The ricochet sparks off a metal beam overhead.
Cain moves.
He rips his hand free, flips the knife, and throws it. The blade sinks into the tall one's shoulder. The guy drops.
Then Cain spins and slams his elbow into the second hunter's jaw. Bone cracks. The man goes down.
I'm already moving. I grab the tall one's dropped baton and swing it into the knee of the girl on the left. She screams. I don't stop. I bring it down on her wrist and her shock prod hits the ground.
Cain takes the fourth one—some wiry guy with a chain. They go down grappling. The chain wraps Cain's arm but he drives his forehead into the guy's nose. Blood sprays. The guy lets go.
That leaves one.
The last hunter's young. Maybe first year. He's got a crossbow but his hands are shaking so bad the bolt's pointing at the floor.
"Don't," I say.
He fires anyway.
Cain sees it. He sees the angle—straight at my chest—and he doesn't think. He just moves.
He slams into me from the side. We hit the ground hard. The bolt goes over us and punches into the wall.
For a second we're just tangled there. His weight on me. His breath on my neck. I can feel his heartbeat. Still too fast.
"You're welcome," he mutters.
Then the pain hits.
Not me. Him.
He makes this awful choked sound and rolls off. There's a knife in his side. Not his knife—one of theirs. The tall one's backup blade. Must've been on the ground where we landed.
Blood soaks through his shirt. Fast.
"Cain—"
"I'm fine." He tries to sit up. Can't. "Go. Before more show up."
"Shut up." I rip a strip off my jacket sleeve and press it to the wound. He hisses. "You don't get to die before you explain what happened last time."
"I told you. I killed you."
"Why?"
He looks at me. Really looks. His face is pale. Sweat on his temples.
"Because someone made me choose," he says. "You or everyone else."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I've got."
Footsteps again. Distant but getting closer. The trial's still active. More hunters inbound.
I look at the five on the ground. Three unconscious. Two groaning. We've got maybe two minutes before someone with actual authority shows up.
"Can you walk?"
"Can you stop asking stupid questions?"
I grab his arm and haul him up. He sways but stays upright. Barely.
We move. Out the side exit, down a service corridor I mapped yesterday. The blood trail behind us is bad but I can't stop to fix it.
Cain's leaning more weight on me every step. His breathing's shallow.
"There's a med cache in the east stairwell," I say. "Old one. Probably still stocked."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I died in the west stairwell last time. I memorized every exit after."
He laughs. It sounds wet. "You're so fucking stubborn."
"Says the guy who just took a knife for me."
"Yeah, well." He stumbles. I catch him. "Don't get used to it."
We reach the stairwell. I kick the cache open. There's gauze, coagulant gel, and a single syringe of something labeled FIELD STIM. I grab it all.
Cain collapses against the wall. I cut his shirt open. The wound's deep but not fatal if I move fast.
I pack it with gauze and coagulant. He doesn't make a sound but his knuckles go white where he's gripping the railing.
"Why'd you do it?" I ask. Quiet. "The crossbow wasn't even yours to block."
He doesn't answer right away.
Then: "Because last time I didn't."
I look up. His eyes are closed.
"Last time I let you take the hit," he says. "And you died hating me. So this time I figured I'd try something different."
Something hot and sharp twists in my chest. I shove it down.
"You're an idiot," I say.
"Yeah."
I finish bandaging and inject the stim. His eyes snap open. Pupils blown wide. The drug kicks in fast—his breathing steadies, color comes back.
"That'll hold you for an hour," I say. "Then you're gonna crash hard."
"Good enough."
He pushes to his feet. Still unsteady but better. He looks at me. Then at my collarbone where his knife cut me earlier. The blood's dried dark against my skin.
"Sorry," he says. "For that. And for—"
He stops.
His eyes go wide.
I feel it a second later. A burning sensation on my left wrist. Like someone's pressing a hot brand into the skin.
I yank my sleeve up.
There's a mark. Red. Fresh. Still smoking.
Letters seared into my skin in the Academy's clean block font:
HUNTER—CAIN LOCKE
I stare at it. Then at him.
He's staring too. At his own wrist. Where the same mark just appeared. But his says something different.
PREY—IVY GRAY
"What the hell," I breathe.
Cain's face goes hard. "It's a reversal tag."
"A what?"
"New trial rule. I've heard of it but I've never seen it trigger." He looks at me. "When a Hunter saves their assigned Prey, the contract flips. Now you're my Hunter. And I'm your Prey."
"So you have to kill me."
"No." His voice is flat. Cold. "Now you have to kill me. Or we both get expelled."
The mark burns. I can feel it pulsing. Like a countdown I can't see.
Cain's still staring at his wrist. At my name branded there.
"Looks like we're both screwed," he says.
Then the intercom crackles overhead. A voice I recognize—Director Hale, the one who runs the trials.
"Attention all active participants. A reversal tag has been activated. Ivy Gray is now primary Hunter. Cain Locke is now primary Prey. Bounty has been doubled. All other contracts are suspended until resolution. You have twenty-four hours."
The intercom cuts.
Silence.
Cain looks at me. I look at him.
Twenty-four hours. One of us dead or we both lose everything.
"So," he says. Quiet. Almost calm. "What now, Hunter?"