She sees him, or sees the absence where he is, and her breath catches sharp and sudden.
Behind her, another presence closes in. Sting. I didn’t call him. He’s just here. Because he always knows when the board’s about to flip.
And above her?—
Me.
She looks up at last, searching the darkness for the source of the pressure she’s been feeling all night. For the hand that’s been steering her.
Our eyes don’t meet.
But she knows. She knows someone’s been watching. Someone’s been deciding. Someone’s been waiting for this exact moment.
Her grip tightens on the metal base one last time. Then, slowly, deliberately, she lowers it. Not surrender.
Acceptance.
She straightens, lifts her chin, and waits. For us to come to her.
I don’t move yet. I let the moment hold. Let her feel the weight of it. Let her understand that the Hunt didn’t just catch her.
Itchoseher.
And now?—
Now, we find out why she’s really here.
14
VI
Finally,the lights completely die all at once.
No flicker. No warning.
Because of course.
Darkness slams down so hard it’s physical, like something dropped over my head. I stop short, breath snagging, hands lifting instinctively in front of me like they’ll find something solid to hold onto.
They don’t.
For one stupid, fragile second, a thought flickers through me.
Did I win?
The question lands wrong the moment it forms. Too easy. Too hopeful. But I cling to it anyway, heart hammering as I listen for something like an announcement, a signal, a sound that means it’s over.
Nothing comes.
No sirens. No horns. No collective noise rolling through the mall. Just silence, thick and intentional.
How are we supposed to know? When it’s all over?
The realization crawls up my spine, cold and unpleasant. I don’t know the rules for the end of the Hunt. I don’t know how the winner is declared, or when. Maybe that’s on purpose. Maybe they don’t end it until they’re done enjoying it.
Maybe the lights going out isn’t an ending at all. Maybe it’s just another tool. Another way to fuck with the runners.
My knee throbs, sharp and insistent, grounding me back in my body. Whatever this means, it doesn’t mean safety.
