The trees close in, the world shrinking to a tunnel of gray and black, with only the moon ahead to guide me. My feet slip on wet moss. I grab a tree for balance and almost rip the bark off.My hands are covered in sap, sticky and sharp-smelling. I keep going, driven by the certainty that Julian is always right behind me.
He wants me to fight. He wants me to run.
He wants to see how far I’ll go before I let him catch me.
For a minute I forget why we’re here. I forget the world outside this forest, the city, the Academy, the men we killed together. There’s only this: me, him, and the breathless possibility of being prey.
I crash through a wall of underbrush and into a hollow, the trees opening up enough to let a little more moonlight spill through. I pause, doubled over, my hands on my knees, sucking wind and trying to quiet the hammer of my heart. I hear him then, just a bit behind me.
He’s close.
I drop to a crouch, hiding behind a fallen log, and watch the shadows for movement. The world is so quiet I can hear the blood in my ears, the tiny patter of dew dropping off leaves, the clatter of my teeth as I shiver.
Then I hear him—slow footsteps, no rush, like he knows exactly where I am and is savoring the seconds before I realize it too.
I bite my lip, taste copper, and wonder what would happen if I ran again. I want to. I want to see if I can outpace him even for a minute. I want to see if I can make him sweat.
So, I lunge from my hiding spot, push off the log and take off at an angle, hoping to throw him off. I don’t look back. I don’t need to. I can feel him shifting, changing direction to follow me, always close but never too close.
This is a game. I know the rules, now.
The woods blur past, the world reduced to sensation. My breath rasps in and out, my lungs burning, my legs trembling with each step. I can’t stop smiling. My lips are chapped and split but I’m grinning so wide my cheeks ache.
At the edge of my vision, I catch movement. He’s running now, full stride, every step calculated, every muscle in his body tuned to this exact moment. I glance back, just once, and see him—tall, lean, all angles and hunger, eyes locked on me with an intensity that turns my stomach to water.
He wants me. Not just to catch me. To devour me.
The thought makes me run faster.
I don’t know how long we play this game. Minutes, maybe. Hours. Time doesn’t matter here. All that matters is the way my body sings with the effort, the way the cold air tears at my lungs, the way the fear of being caught slowly melts into something else.
Anticipation.
Desire.
I want him to catch me. But not yet.
I veer left, then right, weaving through the trees like a deer, each turn buying me a second more of freedom. The terrain slopes down, and I almost tumble head over heels before catching myself on a sapling. My knees buckle, but I keep going.
I can feel him gaining. He’s letting me see him, now, a dark shape flashing through the gaps in the trees, always just out of reach. He’s toying with me, and I love him for it.
The world narrows again, the trees drawing in until I have to duck and weave to get through. I hear his breathing now, steady and even, never ragged, never desperate. He’s in control. He’s always in control.
I’m the one losing it. The one breaking down.
I clear the last line of trees and find myself at the edge of another clearing, this one smaller, almost a perfect circle. The grass is shorter here, softer. The moon is brighter, the sky wide open above.
I collapse to my knees in the center, gasping, hair plastered to my forehead, arms streaked with dirt and blood. My whole body shakes.
The footsteps slow. Then stop. For a heartbeat, there is nothing but the sound of my own collapse.
I look up and see him, just at the edge of the light.
He’s smiling.
I realize I’m smiling too.
He steps forward, slow, deliberate, never breaking eye contact. He circles me, once, twice, as if checking to make sure I’m really beaten.
