Page 32 of Hunted

‘And what makes you think I know anything?’

‘Because you don’t scare easily,’ I reply, playing him up despite the vomit building at the back of my throat. ‘And you haven’t hung up yet.’

A low chuckle. ‘You’re walking into something bigger than you. I’m just wondering whether the fireworks will be worth it.’

‘Probably. But hey, I’m already in it,’ I say. ‘So here’s the deal. You give me what you know, and I’ll take one off your board.’

He pauses. I can almost hear him weighing how much he trusts me against how badly he wants to stay alive. ‘Any bounty?’

‘One,’ I insist harder.

Another beat.

‘Okay. You’ve got a problem,’ he says. ‘And I’ve got something you can chase.’

‘Send it.’

The file pings through seconds later. I skim it, eyes narrowing.

It’s messy.

Good.

Messy gives my mind something immediate to focus on. Something that bleeds and breaks and ends. Anything to keep me from driving myself insane.

I gear up on muscle memory. Weapons checked. Pulse darts loaded. Mercy pin in place. I leave the Widow’s Fang locked in its case because I don’t trust my focus not to slip.

Then I head out.

The bounty is holed up along the East River in an abandoned shipping yard slated for demolition, the kind of place that smells like rust, rot and old mistakes.

My mark isn’t a vampire this time.

He’s a Myrkshade, a venom-born revenant thing that crawled out of a botched necromantic rite and learned to survive by feeding on fear and nerve endings.

They’re illegal and a fucking pain in the ass for a reason.

Myrkshades don’t just kill. They paralyse, infect, linger. Their venom seeps through skin contact, numbing muscles, slowing reflexes, shutting down breath if you give it long enough. Vile, shitty monsters who like to play with their food before they devour it.

This one is tall and thin, joints bending the wrong way, eyes reflecting green under the floodlights. His mouth splits too wide when he smiles.

He wants the challenge.

I can feel it in the way he circles instead of attacking. Testing. Measuring. Waiting for me to blink.

‘Revenant Agency,’ I announce mildly. ‘You’re overdue for pickup. And for putting down,’ I mutter under my breath.

He cackles with a sound that makes my bones ache.

Then he lunges.

Shit.

He’s fast. Faster than he should be. Faster than I expected.

I barely get my guard up before his hand skims my forearm, venom singeing against my skin like ice pressed to nerve. I grit my teeth and move as the anti-venom I downed starts to kick in.

Bonebreaker knuckles connect with his jaw, basilisk bone cracking through whatever passes for cartilage.