Chapter 11 · Untitled Chapter

"Don't move."

Luke stood ten feet away, water dripping from his coat. His gun pointed at my chest. The hammer was cocked.

I froze. My hands shook from the river, from Amy, and from the rabbit blood I'd barely kept down instead of hers.

"You pulled that kid out like she weighed nothing," Luke said. "I saw you from the bank. You weren't even trying."

I wiped my mouth. My palm came away red.

"She was drowning."

"Yeah. She was." He tilted his head. "Funny thing is, you came up without breathing hard. You weren't breathing at all."

My throat tightened. Not that I needed air.

"Water was cold."

Luke gave a rough laugh. "Real cold. Sure."

His boots sank into the mud as he moved closer. "How long have you been dead, Qin?"

The way he said my name crawled under my skin. I said nothing.

"I've tracked you for two weeks," he continued. "Since the freighter camp. Three men with their throats torn open. Not a drop of blood left. Then the wagon train hires a Chinese widow who doesn't eat, doesn't sleep, and jumps every time somebody cuts a finger."

"I eat."

"Scraps.