Chapter 22 Shadows Of The Hunt

• The forest was still breathing smoke when the sun tried to rise.
• I sat against the roots of a twisted oak, watching light struggle through the mist like it was afraid to touch me. My skin still shimmered faintly red from the oath, and every heartbeat sounded like a drum beneath my ribs.
• Lucien crouched a few steps away, his shirt torn, his hands raw from clawing through stone. He hadn’t slept. I could tell by the way his eyes followed every movement of the trees—as if the world might reach for us again.