THE HUNTERS STRIKE The silence in the tent had become a living thing. It sat between us like a physical wall, thick and suffocating.

Since the moment Demetrius had shouted at me to get out, we hadn't spoken a single word. He moved through the space as if I were a ghost, and I did my best to be invisible. I stayed in my corner, my back against the canvas, watching him from the shadows. He looked pale, still recovering from the heart-stop, but his face was set in a mask of stone.

He’s killing ...