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“No.”

Ezra’s hand goes to his knife. Malakai looks toward the field.

Again—the whistle. Two notes, exactly like mine. Something is calling her with my voice.

Fuck that.

“We’re going inside,” Ezra says.

Sage doesn’t move.

“Sage.”

“Why is it using his whistle?”

“I don’t know.”

Malakai answers. “The Hunt.”

I look at him. “What?”

“It was never completed.”

“Yes, it was.”

“No.”

“I caught her.”

His gaze shifts toward Sage. “You caught the Bride.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t take her.”

Silence.

Sage looks between us. “Define take before I start screaming.”

“I don’t know,” Malakai says.

She points at him. “I’m beginning to think you’re terrible at your job.”

“My job hasn’t existed for two hundred years.”

“Brush up.”

Fair.

The whistle comes again, only it’s getting closer.

My pulse changes. Not faster—sharper.

The world does the same.

I hear insects in the grass. Wind through distant leaves. Ezra’s breathing. Malakai’s. Sage’s.

There. Her heartbeat.