She spins, her eyes wide behind her mask.
For three heartbeats, neither of us moves.
Then she bolts.
I catch her before she makes it two steps, my arm wrapping around her waist and hauling her back against my chest. She's all curves and fury, thrashing like a wildcat. Her elbow catches my ribs, a good hit that'll leave a bruise, and her heel slams down toward my instep.
I shift my weight, absorbing the blow, and spin her around to face me.
"Done running?" I ask.
"Fuck you." Her voice is breathless, vicious.
"Not yet." I can feel my mouth curving into a smile. "But I appreciate the offer."
She tries to knee me in the groin. I block it with my thigh, which puts her leg between mine, which puts her body flush against me.
The contact sends heat straight through me.
She feels it too. I see her pupils dilate, see the way her breath catches.
"What are you going to do with me?" The question comes out quieter than her earlier defiance, but no less fierce.
It's the first real question she's asked. The first time she's acknowledged that this is happening, that I've caught her, that the game has shifted.
I should take her right here. That's what The Hunt means. Capture equals surrender equals whatever the hunter wants.
But something in her eyes stops me.
She didn't understand. When she grabbed that mask, when she ran into these woods, she didn't know what she was volunteering for. She thought it was something else.
And I might be a monster, but I'm not that kind of monster.
"I'm taking you back," I say.
Relief flashes across her face, but is quickly hidden.
"But not to the ballroom." I lean closer, until my mouth is next to her ear. "To my suite. Where you're going to tell me why you want to kill Artur Troskoy."
She goes rigid in my arms.
"And if I don't?"
"Then I'll hand you over to Troskoy myself and let him ask the questions." I pull back enough to meet her eyes. "Your choice, milaya."
For a long moment, she stares at me. I can see her mind working, calculating odds and options.
Then her shoulders drop half an inch.
"Fine."
"Good girl."
The words make her stiffen again, but I'm already moving. I bend, hook one arm under her knees and the other around her back, and lift her over my shoulder.
She makes a sound of protest.
"You're bleeding," I say, grabbing her foot. "And we need to make this look convincing."
