Page 9 of Specter Bred

"Picking off the stragglers."

Cutter glanced toward the far end of the course.

"We've got recruits about to cross the line!"

"Doesn't matter." My eyes swept the course, searching for any sign of Archer. "We need to cull the weak."

As we backtracked through the course, Alvarez and Cutter continued picking off candidates.

Eliminated recruits had gathered along the sidelines, watching the assessment with defeated expressions. Stained uniforms, splattered with bright bursts of colored powder from the training rounds, made it easy to identify those who we had taken out.

But Archer wasn't among them.

I scanned the growing group again.

Nothing.

No dark, braided hair.

No furious glare.

Damn it, there was no sign of the female alpha.

Then movement caught the corner of my eye. A shape slipped between two obstacles, so close to the convoy that I almost dismissed it as a shadow. I slowed the vehicle and looked again.

It was Archer, except mud covered her entire body from head to toe. Not splattered though, more like deliberately coated. She smeared thick brown sludge over every inch of exposed skin and every piece of fabric, until she blended seamlessly into the surrounding course.

That's what she'd been doing behind the concrete barrier, why she hadn't emerged right away, and why I'd lost sight of her. She'd camouflaged herself.

While everyone else had spent the last ten minutes sprinting across open ground trying to outrun the instructors, Archer had stopped and thought. Then she'd turned herself into part of the terrain.

After that, she'd stayed as close to the convoy as possible, trailing behind us through our blind spots. Whenever we slowed, she hid. Whenever we moved, she moved, always keeping something between herself and our line of sight.

Most of the recruits had made the same mistake. They'd treated the convoy like a threat to escape from, pushing toward the far edges of the course and putting as much distance between themselves and the instructors as possible.

Archer had done the opposite. She'd identified where we couldn't see and stayed there, using our own vehicle as cover.

Smart.

Irritatingly smart thinking I hadn't expected from someone I'd written off as little more than a diversity hire.

I slowed, watching through the corner of my vision as she slid behind a ramp, crouching knee-deep in mud.

"Let's engage them on the ground!" I shouted.

"Heard!" my fellow instructors yelled in unison.

I cut the engine, and then we spread out. The rain grew thick, providing the few remaining candidates with more cover. It still didn't help them. We were lethal, able to track targets and hit bullseyes in far worse weather than this.

My fellow instructors moved forward, clearing the last men from the course, while I tracked my prey.

When I rounded the corner of the ramp she'd been hiding behind, I found nothing but a muddy puddle. But she had to be close. Her scent still lingered in the air, though the storm had dulled it considerably.

I dropped to one knee and studied the ground. Fresh tracks cut through the mud, circling around the back of the ramp. Archer had doubled back instead of continuing forward.

Again, smart.

I followed the trail for only a few steps before movement flashed in my peripheral vision.