Page 8 of Hunter's Moon

“Does any of that mean anything to you?” I asked.

She shook her head, but I caught the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “I don’t know what they’re talking about. I’m nobody special.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

LINA

The cold metal floor bit into my skin as I huddled in the corner of our cell. My heart raced, memories of the Obsidian Dawn assassin flashing through my mind. The dark stain on Arin’s tunic, the glint of the assassin’s blade, the tattoo on their wrist - it all swirled together in a nauseating blur.

“Why didn’t they just kill me?” I muttered, more to myself than to him.

Tharion’s deep voice rumbled through the cell. “They want something from you. Information, perhaps.”

I let my head fall back. “I don’t know anything.”

“Are you certain?”

The question hung in the air. Was I certain? Arin had been acting strangely before... No. I pushed the thought away.

“I can’t trust you,” I said, meeting Tharion’s gaze. “I don’t even know why you’re here.”

He let out a low chuckle. “Fate has a twisted sense of humor. I was hunting you, and now we’re both trapped.”

My blood ran cold. “Hunting me?”

“A job. Nothing personal.”

I scoffed. “Right. Nothing personal about chasing me into a trap.”

Tharion’s markings seemed to darken as he leaned forward. “Look, human. We’re in this together now. Like it or not, we need each other to survive.”

I wanted to argue, to push him away. But he was right.

“Fine,” I relented. “So what’s the plan?”

Tharion studied me, his gaze intense. “Why did you have a bounty on your head?”

The question caught me off guard. My heart skipped a beat as I processed his words. “What? There’s a bounty on me?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “That’s why I was hunting you. It’s a considerable sum.”

My hands trembled as I wrapped my arms around myself. “You took the job without even knowing why?”

Tharion shrugged, his lean muscles rippling beneath his gray skin. “It’s a job. Didn’t really matter.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My life was just another paycheck to him. The cold metal of the cell leeched the warmth from my body.

“I was just doing the shopping for Dr. Heylarth,” I whispered. “Everything went crazy after that.”

Tharion’s brow furrowed. “Who’s Heylarth?”

I balled my hands into fists, slowly relaxed them, trying to steady my nerves. “He owns my indenture papers.” But that didn’t explain it all. “But he’s never been cruel. He must be so worried about me.”

Something flashed across Tharion’s face - a tightening of his jaw, a narrowing of his eyes. He looked almost... grumpy. But why would he care?

“Dr. Heylarth is an elderly Mondian,” I tried again, the words tumbling out. “Apparently he’s had some sort of exciting life and spends his days locked up in his study, writing a memoir. He’s kind, patient. Nothing like most owners.”

Tharion’s posture relaxed slightly. “Go on,” he prompted.

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